


Beyond a Perpetual Sunrise

by sapphicmoon



Series: Perpetual Sunrise [1]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 1950s, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Post-Canon, series of One-shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicmoon/pseuds/sapphicmoon
Summary: A series of one-shots (or snapshots) into Carol and Therese's lives, set during and after my story 'Perpetual Sunrise'. (Please give it a read if you haven't already - it may provide some needed context.)This won't be following a set story line or arch.





	1. Carol's Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I wasn't away long, was I? :) I plan to update this as and when I feel inspired. I really hope you enjoy this first one-shot.
> 
> Also, just a note to say that I watched Cate's play and...... kill me. She's so gorgeous and talented I am Very Much a lesbian. (If you didn't already know.) Genuinely, I can't get over how beautiful she is. I thought I was going to pass out.

If there was one thing Therese Belivet could never quite get used to, it was socialising with Carol’s crowd. Fitting in amongst the men and women who dressed in expensive suits and gowns, smoking from pipes and sharing jokes about the latest automobiles, was difficult to say the least. These were people who primarily worked with numbers, cooped up in offices where they slaved over paperwork until nightfall. They were investors, bankers, accountants and legal professionals. Even those who came from a furniture or antique background spoke, mostly, about sourcing the right deals and partners.

And the wives of those men were the cliquey sort, who spoke of grand dinners and their children’s education, but nothing of real substance. Therese felt sorry for them, knowing that they were chained down by their husband’s livelihoods, merely following in their stead like Carol used to. These women didn’t have a life of their own or hobbies of their own. They weren’t given the freedom to pursue their interests or find themselves.

Therese sighed.

The whole situation was far from her comfort zone. Parties weren’t her forte anyway, but especially not parties such as these. And, even with her newfound financial stability, she still couldn’t make herself tolerate these events often. Whereas Carol had been born into money and luxuries that she could only dream of, Therese had not. In fact, she had spent most of her life skimming by the surface, never having a chance to indulge.  

Before she had been carted off to boarding school, her mother had struggled to keep the two of them fed after the wake of her father’s death. Money was hard to come by without a man in the family, even during the desperate times of the war and the occasional factory work her mother had sourced. Therese had been too young to remember the strains of it all, but the way her mother had walked away from her at the drop of a hat was telling enough. As a child, she was a burden. That’s why she had been sent away. That’s why her mother had never called or visited. That’s why she’d been discarded so quickly when her mother had found another husband and had had another child.

A man hurried past her on his way to introduce a newly-arrived guest. He knocked Therese’s glass slightly and placed a hand on her shoulder as a way of an apology.  

She couldn’t help but feel like an intruder. After all, she was stood amongst people who would look down at her should they discover her upbringing. And so, to avoid their judging gazes, she sipped from her champagne glass and backed awkwardly into a corner. One arm lay across her stomach, a subconscious way of guarding herself.

Of course, she was never obligated to come, and Carol had made that clear more than once before. But, if Carol was to make the effort with her friends, it was only right that she made the effort with Carol’s. The only trouble was, she felt almost invisible.

Thirty or so minutes ago, they had both shifted across the dining room to socialise with Carol’s old friend, Stanley McVeigh. Therese had recognised him from a brief encounter in 1951, back when Carol was finding her independence after her divorce from Harge. The man was kind enough; he wore glasses and had a schnauzer dog, she remembered. As he had spoken to Carol about the furniture store, Therese had tried to integrate herself into a conversation with a few other acquaintances. When doing so, the man beside her had turned his back to her, sectioning her off from the small gathering of people.

Even when Carol had loudly praised Therese for her work in The Times, the group of men and women around them had seemed disinterested. Even Stanley’s face seemed to gloss over. The quiet ‘ _hmms_ ’ of acknowledgement, that felt more like dismissal, still rang in her ears. And the way they had edged back into conversations of such mundane things, like stock exchanges and the housing market, had cut through her like a knife. Not even Carol’s apologetic eyes could sooth her from the bitterness she felt.

To them, Therese Belivet was merely a rock for them to stumble upon. Her career, her ambitions, her artistically-inclined mind, wasn’t worth considering.

 _But wasn’t art, or culture, or real-world problems more important than money?_ She wanted to say. _Wasn’t life itself more valuable than any materialistic possession?_

They talked and talked of life as if it were a machine to be fed, rather than a growing, living thing. Something alive and beautiful. Life wasn’t just about money or social status or fancy dinners, it was so much more than that.

She placed her empty glass on a polished mahogany table, with its gold painted legs curled in like waves at the bottom.

They weren’t all bad, she supposed. Carol’s friend, Jeanette, had kindly kept her company for a while, engaging in a dynamic conversation about photography as an art form. The woman had even given her the contact details of a friend who owned a gallery in the city.

_‘If you’re as good as Carol says you are – and I’m sure you are, of course,’ Jeanette had said, puffing a cloud of smoke from between her pursed lips, ‘maybe you’ll even get your own gallery show. Give it a thought, will you? Tell him you know me.’_

Therese had nodded eagerly; at least someone had taken an interest in her. The thought spread like tendrils through her; validation that she had been acknowledged. There was something about Jeanette and her knowing gaze that made Therese feel as if she was seen. Perhaps the woman knew of her and Carol’s relationship, or perhaps she didn’t know at all and was merely empathising. Either way, it had felt nice to not be dismissed.

A hand unexpectedly clasped around her shoulder, shocking her.

‘I was wondering where you were hiding.’ Carol cooed quietly, placing another full glass in Therese’s hands.

She smiled at the touch, her muscles softening. ‘Sorry. It still feels odd trying to talk to your friends when they’re so… I don’t know. Different.’

There was a pause.

‘They’re nice enough when you get to know them, darling.’

‘I know.’ She took a large gulp of champagne and felt it uncomfortably fizz behind her nose. ‘I’m trying.’

‘You are.’ Carol said, smiling warmly. ‘I suppose a lot of them are still dedicated to Harge. We shared a lot of the same friends and acquaintances during our marriage. The situation must be awkward for them, too.’

Therese shot her a look that betrayed some of her jealousy. She knew that, without Harge, they wouldn’t have Rindy. Without Harge, they probably wouldn’t have ever met. But Harge still lingered around them occasionally, like a ghost, swooping in at the most inopportune times. Harge was here, breathing life through the people of Carol’s past. He was here in their mannerisms, their drab conversations, the questioning sideways glances they shot at Therese when they thought she wasn’t looking.

Of course, the real Harge in all his blustering boldness, was out of the city, quietly fading out of their lives. He only spoke to them out of duty when he came to pick up or drop off Rindy. The man still didn’t approve of their relationship, but he didn’t have the fight in him to try and tear them apart.  

‘You’re not saying… _They know about us_?’ Therese whispered, her voice quavering.

‘No, no, of course not.’ Carol dismissed, laughing slightly. ‘I’m sure some may have their suspicions, but I doubt they’d ever make them known. It’s not the sort of thing one pries into.’

‘So, what has Harge got to do with it? They shouldn’t feel awkward about it. You’ve been divorced for over a year.’

Carol have her a firm look, as if to say, ‘ _What’s this all about? You’re being silly_ ’.

‘Well?’ Therese pressed, suddenly feeling ashamed of her jealousy, of her status, of the sheer act of being present in the room.

Carol loved her fiercely, of course she did, but no one else around them could appreciate her role in Carol’s life. To the outsiders, Therese had replaced Harge, even if they thought of her role as being solely platonic. Therese was proof of Carol’s bad decisions; her choice to stray from the norm and the world she’d grown up in.

‘Divorce is taboo, darling, particularly when it’s initiated by the woman. They don’t approve of my choice to be free and, by default, they… Well. They think what they think. It doesn’t matter to me. And it shouldn’t matter to you either.’

She pursed her lips and looked down at her heels, ignoring Carol’s cold stare. Therese had touched a nerve, it seemed.

‘I’m sorry.’

Carol sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

‘No, Therese. I’m sorry. I keep thinking – hoping - they’ll see me as an individual. But I’m an unmarried woman.’ She smiled. ‘And an unmarried woman is either someone to ignore or someone to obtain. But I don’t like to dwell on it.’

‘Well, you’re so much more than that to me.’ Therese murmured, flitting a hand behind her to graze Carol’s back.

‘Not to mention, I’m already obtained.’ Carol murmured, winking at her.

Therese’s thumb traced a line up the woman’s spine and she thought she could feel Carol shiver slightly. It was a strange feeling, to have so much power over a woman who could crush her with one look. Therese felt so small and tepid in comparison.

Her hand retracted suddenly as a middle-aged man approached both Carol and Therese, a wide grin spread across his face, showcasing his white teeth. He seemed youthful for his age, with a full head of hair and a clean-shaven, smooth face.

But, regardless of how kind he appeared, Therese couldn’t help her stomach churn as she noticed the way he was looking at Carol. He was interested in her: it was plain to see in his face.

‘Carol Aird, is it? I believe we’ve met once. Charlie Truman.’ He outstretched his hand to Carol.

She smiled politely and shook his hand.

Therese stared, her teeth clenching together. She noted his hand lingering a second too long, his tongue that licked his lips, his eyes that did a quick sweep of Carol from the head down.

‘Carol Ross.’ Carol corrected in a bored, almost annoyed, tone. ‘Nice to see you again, Charlie.’

‘Ah, yes. You’re a free woman now, as they say. Good for you.’

Carol raised her eyebrows and nodded, taking a quick sip from her glass of red wine.

‘You’re looking especially beautiful tonight, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Charlie continued, persistently.

He placed his hand on Carol’s elbow. And Therese fought the urge to slap his hand away or throw the contents of her glass at his blazer. Instead, she gazed at Carol and willed her to look back, but the woman kept her eyes fixed upon the man in front of her.

‘Thank you.’

‘Would you care for a dance? I promise to take good care of you.’

The blood boiled beneath Therese’s skin, trembling like the beginnings of an earthquake, rippling through her composure. The heat rose to her face and she puffed out her chest slightly in defiance. She was almost positive that Carol could feel the jealousy and anger pulsating off her from beside her.

One of Carol’s elbows brushed against her quickly and featherlight, but it was enough to show Therese that Carol knew. She knew the man’s intent, as well as Therese’s feelings about it.

‘That’s very kind of you, but-’

‘One dance.’ He interrupted. ‘Come on, just one.’

‘Really, I mustn’t.’ Carol said, her voice growing harsher. She tried to move her body further away.

‘I insist.’

In one swift movement, Charlie grasped her hand and pulled her forward in the direction of the makeshift dance floor. Carol, seemingly shocked, handed Therese her glass and mouthed an apologetic ‘ _sorry’_ over her shoulder. Standing shakily against the wall, Therese watched the two of them walk towards the small jazz band and form their positions. She didn’t dare to blink as she observed the man’s hands circle around Carol’s waist.

Tipping her head up, she finished off the rest of her champagne and clumsily dropped it onto the table behind her.

She knew Carol had to keep up a certain pretence amongst her friends. There was a mask that had to be worn in these sorts of settings. But it didn’t make the matter any better or fairer. Watching the love of her life being pursued by another person felt like a hard blow to the chest. And she wondered if poor Carol, who had been dragged away against her will, was thinking of her now as she danced.

She hoped she was thinking of her.

Charlie laughed at something he had said and Carol gave a forced smile in response. It was enough to make Therese snort with laughter. But any humour she had felt in the moment vanished when she noticed his hand sink lower, from her waist to her hip.

Therese registered Carol’s eyes widen in shock. The woman looked as if she might knee the man in the stomach.

But Therese knew, if she was given the chance, she would do something much worse.

And so, despite the people, the place, the setting, Therese came out from her small corner of the room and made a beeline for Carol, her breath coming out of her lungs as fast as a firing gun. The glistening sheen of her eyes threatened to betray her emotions, but she didn’t care. They could all be damned, she thought. She loved Carol and she couldn’t hide it.

She came to a halt beside them. Carol looked uncomfortable, leaning as far away from the man as she could. They were both still unaware of her presence, swaying to the lucid music. Therese struggled to know what to say or do and so, for a moment, she shifted her weight between both of her feet, opening and closing her mouth.

And then she saw Charlie whisper something in Carol’s ear. Therese didn’t care what he said, or why he had said it. She didn’t care who the man was, or why he was at the party, or how he knew Carol. He was over-stepping a line.

‘Carol.’ She said, louder than she intended.

The two of them stopped dancing. Carol’s face seemed to register with relief.

‘I, uh, we have that event to attend, remember?’ She asked gauchely.

Carol’s mouth fell open and her perfectly curved eyebrows twitched. Realisation washed over her face, then, like a dam had broken. ‘Ah, yes. Sorry Charlie.’ She broke away from their embrace all too eagerly. ‘We must be going.’

The man’s mouth fell as if he were upset or annoyed. ‘So soon?’

‘Yes.’

‘Let’s just finish this one dance, hey? For me?’

He reached out to grasp Carol’s hand again, but Therese sidestepped between them.

‘We have to go.’ She said sternly, her eyes burning like fire.

Charlie seemed taken aback. His lips set into a straight line, demonstrating his annoyance. He moved away from Therese, attempting to ignore her presence, and addressed Carol instead.

‘Here’s my number, Carol, if you’d like to meet up again soon.’ The man placed a business card in Carol’s hand before pulling her into a hug, much to her dismay. And when Carol pulled away, he kissed her cheek and smiled.

Therese stepped forward, her face growing hot with anger. _How dare you_ , she wanted to say, s _he’s mine_ _and she doesn’t want you_.

But before she had a chance to bite back or say something more, Carol was ushering her quickly out of the large terraced house and onto the street outside. Her hand was placed on her back, guiding her.

She felt like flailing and running back inside. She felt like tearing the man apart for being so unnerving and arrogant and persistent.

‘Can you _belie_ -’

Carol pushed her further forward along the walkway, upping their pace as she did so. Therese wasn’t quite sure what the rush was.

‘Carol, what-’

The clicking of Carol’s heels grew faster. Panic grew within Therese like a tidal wave looming over her. Had she seen someone? Was the man following them? Did her outburst invite too much attention?

She hadn’t been that obvious, had she?

Suddenly, Therese had been pushed upright against a brick wall. The wind had been knocked out of her. They were in a dark alleyway without streetlights, a few hundred yards away from their apartment. She could see nothing but the outline of Carol's face and the rising and falling of her chest. The woman's heavy breathing tickled her face for a moment. 

And then Carol’s mouth descended upon hers dominantly, possessively. Therese took a few moments to register what was happening, fighting for breath between the movements of Carol’s lips. Then, lost in the moment, she moved one hand to the back of the woman’s neck and cupped it, bringing her closer.

‘I hate being touched by anyone but you,’ Carol hummed, biting a particularly sensitive area of Therese’s neck.

‘Well, I hate you being touched by anyone but me,’ She moaned in response, gasping as one of Carol’s legs pressed between hers. Her neck felt sore but in the most pleasant way. She knew that there would be bruises later when she looked in the bathroom mirror, but that was tomorrow morning’s problem.

Footsteps grew louder and closer, breaking Therese out of her reverie. But Carol remained persistent, unaware.

‘Carol,’ she said jaggedly, her voice squeaking. ‘Let’s go back home.’

They paused for a moment, collecting themselves. And then Carol’s hand was on her back once more, guiding her in the direction of Madison Avenue.


	2. The Flu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me longer than I thought it would to get this one out, so I apologise for that. Also, I have yet to respond to some comments so I will try and do that a bit later. :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

‘Stay.’ Carol said firmly, holding the palm of her hand up as she stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Her eyes looked at her pointedly, expectantly. ‘Don’t get up, you’ll exert yourself.’

‘Carol, I’m fine. Really.’

Therese lifted herself up onto her elbows to look at her lover directly but groaned at the effort. Her weakened arms gave way, bending under her weight like thin twigs, and her body collapsed back down onto the mattress with a _thump_. Her hair spayed out to the sides like branches on her pillow as she did so. And, although her eyes were now fixed upon the ceiling, she could still feel Carol roll her eyes and shake her head.

But before she could say anymore about the matter, or protest Carol’s actions, there was a soft click of the door closing. Carol had exited the room. And, from behind the wooden door, Therese could make out the faint mechanical whirring noise of a phone being dialled.

‘Carol,’ she called out, but her voice got lost in her throat, dissipating out into the vacant room. Therese sighed. _You needn’t do this – I’m fine_ , she wanted to say again.

But, beneath her unwavering stubbornness and her inherent desire to go to work, she knew that she wasn’t. She hadn’t been fine for almost twenty-four hours, in fact. The evening prior she had come home from her shift at The Times with the beginnings of a nasty flu strain. Although she had tried to fight it – and had even gone to bed early at Carol’s instruction – the symptoms had only gotten worse overnight. Her forehead was sticky with a layer of sweat, her muscles were aching and throbbing beneath the sheets, and her skin felt clammy yet cold. But even in spite of it all, the thought of missing a day of work filled her with dread.

Now that she was officially part of the photography department, under the guidance of Martin Foxe, going to work was hardly ever a chore. Yes, there were days where she felt tired or drained, but it was the sort of tiredness that came from doing something fulfilling. She experimented with new techniques when she could, she saw through new perspectives each time she took a photograph. And every day brought something new with it; a different assignment, a different story, a lesson to be learned. It was a constant thrill. An ongoing story with twists and turns at every corner, but always threaded with a rooted purpose: something that kept her stimulated and proud.

By comparison, being home alone for the day, confined to the bed without anything to do, was her personal hell. The wires in her brain were already jumping and starting, begging for something practical to do. But her body wasn’t responding. She lay there prostrate, struggling to keep her dry, aching eyes open.

What use what she to her team if she couldn’t even hold her camera, never mind stand up long enough to take a photograph? And the photo chemicals would surely make her drowsier than she already was. She balled up a fist and rubbed her eyes. Carol was right to phone in sick on her behalf: she needed the rest. But it didn’t make the situation any easier to swallow.

The bedroom door creaked open. Carol sashayed over to the bedside and sat down beside her.

She tucked her legs underneath her and leaned down to stroke a stray strand of Therese’s hair behind her ear. Then, Carol left a lingering kiss on her brow, smiling as she lifted her head away. Her blonde hair rippled against her cheeks and eyelashes and she shook her head back, over her shoulder, to set it back into place. Therese took her in; the radiant skin, the golden glimmers in her hair, the eyes that always understood and appreciated her. She was sure she could have been an angel.

‘Don’t come too close, I’ll make you sick.’ Therese whispered.

‘Hm. Try to make me stay away.’

The back of her hand rested on Therese’s forehead, taking her temperature. Her smiling lips set into a concerned frown.

‘You’re burning up, darling. I’ll get you a wet flannel and some aspirin.’

Carol placed her feet on the floor and made to get up, but Therese caught her hand. ‘Shouldn’t you be off to work already? You’ve got to go out of town for a pick up today.’

‘I’m taking the day off.’ Carol stated, happily so.

Therese jerked upright, her back slumping against the headboard. The sudden movement left her feeling breathless, her arms pulsating with the effort. Her lover gave her a sympathetic smile and ran a hand down the length of her thigh.

‘No, you needn’t-’

‘I’m sure Derek will manage just fine without me, Therese.’

Carol angled her head up and threaded a hand through her hair, twirling the loose ends around the tips of her fingers. Her grey eyes sparkled under the soft, white morning light, like snowflakes were captured within them. Winter seemed to suit Carol so well.

‘You didn’t give the poor man a choice, did you?’ Therese asked, squinting sceptically.

‘Of course not.’ Her lips quirked into a gentle, playful smile. ‘But… You’re not the only one who needs looking after today.’

Therese tilted her head to one side quizzically and frowned. She tried to stifle a cough that was tickling her throat so that she could speak, but Carol stopped her with a pointed look.

‘Harge called before you woke up. Rindy’s got the same bug – I could hear her coughing and sniffling through the phone - the poor thing. Anyway. His parents are away on vacation, and Florence has the day off, so he’ll be coming to drop her off soon.’

Excitement started to flow through her at the thought of seeing Rindy.

‘Does he know I’ll be here too?’

Carol’s lips pursed together. ‘No. But what does that matter?’

She was concerned that the woman might have been upset with her, but the fear was soon quelled when she watched her painted lips transform into a wide smile. Carol rose from the bed and brushed her hands down the length of her skirt before twirling around on the spot, looking at nothing in particular, as if she had forgotten why she had come into the bedroom in the first place.

‘Ah! Aspirin. I was going to get you aspirin.’

And then she hurried out of the door again, only this time with a bounce in her step.

Despite her illness, happiness interwove its way through Therese’s aching bones, and she couldn’t help but grin. Perhaps taking the day off wouldn’t be so bad after all.

*********************

Therese moaned softly and opened her eyes, blinking slowly to help her adjust to her surroundings.

She had accidentally fallen asleep on one of their sofas for a few hours after promising Carol she would only rest her eyes for a moment. They had been waiting patiently for Rindy’s arrival, unsure of when Harge would come knocking.

As the room gradually came into focus, she noticed that a blanket had been placed upon her and tucked up underneath her chin. Carol must have placed it there after she’d drifted off, Therese thought. But that wasn’t all. There was a weight resting against her legs that she was sure wasn’t there before.

In her groggy state, she strained her neck to look down at the far end of the sofa, thinking that perhaps Carol had left a coat or another blanket across her legs.

But, wriggling slightly alongside the bend of her knees, to her great surprise, lay Rindy. She was dressed in her night clothes, cradling a stuffed bear in her arms. Her eyes were droopy, watering with what looked like tears, but dutifully transfixed on the new TV set Phil had set up for them over the weekend. Carol had bought it for Rindy especially, as the girl had grown used to watching the morning and afternoon children’s TV programmes at Harge’s house.

Therese could make out the faint outline of Mickey Mouse’s happy face flitting across the screen.

‘Hey, you,’ Therese mumbled, bunching up her legs so that Rindy had more room to sit down. ‘Sorry I was asleep when you got here.’

Rindy turned to her with her eyes wide open, a small smile flickered across her reddened face briefly. ‘Momma says you’re sick, too,’ she whispered. ‘And that I have to talk quietly so I don’t wake you.’

She laughed, coughing slightly at the effort. ‘I’m already awake, silly.’

That drew a bigger, more confident smile out of the girl. And, to Therese’s surprise, she shifted along the sofa to lay curled up beside her stomach.

Therese took a moment to register the action, holding her breath so that she could stay perfectly still. Although she had grown closer to Rindy in the last few months, their bond had largely remained a verbal one. They had their own thoughtful conversations, and they spent a lot of their time together doing silly kids’ stuff that Carol could never quite get the hang of. Occasionally, when they were outside in the city, they’d hold hands as they crossed the street or passed a busy sidewalk. But hugging one another wasn’t something they did often at all.

As much as she wasn’t against it, Therese still had to fight against the niggling voice in her head that sounded strikingly like Hargess Aird. The girl was easy to love. But, as she was constantly reminded by the man, she wasn’t Rindy’s parent. And so, regardless of how untrue and unjust Harge’s opinions were, she felt the need to respect them and to keep an invisible shield between them.

Of course, Carol would continuously remind her of the silliness of it all. She loved Rindy and there wasn’t anything wrong in showing her affection, or so Carol said. But the thought of being rejected, or over-stepping a line, filled her with a strange impending fear. It felt as if their relationship was made out of porcelain; beautiful but fragile, complete but easily broken.

‘I’m cold.’ Rindy mumbled, nudging her back further into Therese’s stomach. ‘And sicky.’

‘That’ll be your fever.’ Therese said nervously, unsure of what to do next. Then, after seeing the girl shaking once more, she intuitively pulled out the blanket from underneath her and draped it across her shivering form. ‘There. This will keep you warm.’

The girl started coughing and sniffling, working herself up until she started sobbing slightly. Having the flu was bad even as a fully-independent adult, never mind as a child. Even now, Therese could remember flashes of her fleeting childhood illnesses; the uncomfortableness of it, the painful loneliness, the absence of her mother. She had cried out in her shared boarding school room, alone, wishing someone might come and comfort her. Every now and then, a nun would offer her a word or two of support, but there was no physical contact. Nothing to hold onto. And so she was left to her own devices, mothering herself when she needed to, relying on her own thoughts to keep her calm.

‘Where’s your Mom?’ She asked Rindy quietly, her eyes softening at the sight of her. She somehow seemed smaller than usual. Her bold, lovable energy was shrinking. The colour was seeping out of her.

‘She l-left to get milk and food.’

‘Oh.’

They were alone.

Had she ever been left alone with Rindy before? No.

Panic began to build inside her, as if she’d been left with a task she wasn’t quite qualified or prepared for. What was she meant to do?

The girl was still distressed, whimpering in a ball beside her, her feet twitching as she shivered. It sent a sharp pain through her chest, splitting her in two.

And any worries of what was right or wrong vacated her mind. The girl needed her, and she couldn’t stand to see her suffer.

‘Come here,’ she said gently and raised her arm up. Rindy turned to face her, her wide eyes brimming with tears that were trickling down her noses and pooling at her lips. Softly, she dabbed a clean handkerchief under her eyes and wiped her nose. Then, she put an arm around the girl’s waist and pulled her towards her tightly.

‘Is this all right?’ Therese asked nervously.

The girl hummed, her breath still coming out in jagged bursts. After a few moments, she started to settle and relaxed into the hug. Her small hands that were clutched tightly on her stuffed bear then moved to hold Therese’s arm. The little fingers dug in slightly, as if she were trying to transfer some of her pain onto Therese. But she didn’t mind.

‘Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?’

‘This hug is nice.’ Rindy said, dragging out her words as she took a moment to ponder the question. ‘Momma usually gives me hot milk, but we don’t have milk.’

‘Well…’ Therese began, chewing her lip as she thought of what to say next. ‘When I was a young girl, I used to think of something that made me happy, like a memory of a place or a holiday. Picture it in your mind like a photograph and concentrate really, really hard on it. Don’t let it go, even for a moment. And when the picture's fully formed, you won’t be thinking about feeling sick.’

Rindy squinted her eyes in concentration, holding her breath and creasing her nose as she did so. It took some restraint not to laugh at the physical exertion the girl was demonstrating.

‘Have you got a memory?’ She pressed, smiling down at the girl.

She let out a gasping breath and shook her head. ‘I can’t think.’

‘Okay.’ Therese hummed in thought, looking around the living room for some guidance or inspiration. Her eyes landed on the slightly blurred photograph of herself, Carol and Rindy, laughing together as they cut and decorated paper angels. ‘Do you remember that day?’ She questioned.

Rindy’s eyes landed on the framed photo and her face seemed to visibly lighten up. ‘Yes.’

‘You made angels. We have them hanging up all over the apartment.’

‘Yes.’ She repeated, this time whilst smiling broadly. ‘That was happy. Mommy looks pretty in that.’

Therese smiled too, now, as she payed close attention to Carol’s full lips, her white teeth and the soft crease lines around her beautiful eyes. ‘She is very beautiful.’

They stayed silent for a moment as they both observed the photograph and relived the memories. It had seemed so long ago, now, since that day. Looking back on it, Therese had remembered the uncertainty and the anticipation; the beginning of something new. And, then, of course, the miserableness in the wake of Harge’s anger and threats. It was over now. Things were repairing themselves. Her relationship with Rindy was being given the room it needed to grow. But the wounds still hurt, even now.

If he decided to take the girl away now, or slap Therese with legal action, she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. Rindy was a part of their lives. She didn’t want her to leave.

Subconsciously, her grip around the girl grew tighter. Her head lowered slightly, nestling against Rindy’s hairline.

‘I’m happy you’re here.’ Rindy said quietly. ‘I’m happy Mommy has you.’

To say she was taken back by the girl’s unabashed honesty would have been an understatement. She took a few moments to gather her thoughts before speaking.

‘You know you have me too, don’t you? To look after you and protect you.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m happy you’re here, too.’

The words that came out of her mouth sounded like they had come from someone else. They were pulled from a narrative she didn’t ever think she’d play a part in, but the way they spilled off her tongue and wound their way into the room felt natural. She wasn’t a mother, but she would mother her. She wasn’t a guardian, but she’d protect her. It was instinctive, like breathing; it was something she couldn’t learn, because to learn it would mean she didn’t already know it. Loving the girl was as easy as simply _being_.

The sound of a key jangling in the front door filled the room, followed by the barely audible mumblings of Carol.

On any other day, Rindy would have shot up to greet her. But she stayed calmly underneath Therese’s protective arm, breathing evenly as she silently watched her mother hang up her coat and handbag.

‘Can you believe – of _all_ the things to be out of - the local grocery store didn’t have any m-’

Carol stopped in her tracks, dumbfounded, as she saw Therese and Rindy cuddled up together on the same sofa. Her lips parted and her eyebrows frowned, though not at all in an angry way.

‘Milk.’ She continued, barely able to form the word.

Carol blew out a breath through her pressed lips, as if she was steadying herself or thinking of what it was she wanted to say. Quietly, she placed the glass bottle of milk on the living room table and stood aimlessly in front of them. And then, unexpectedly, tears started to prickle in her eyes, like little faint stars that only Therese could see. She blinked rapidly to keep them at bay and gave the two of them a quivering smile – an attempt to conceal her emotions.

One of her hands reached out to cup Rindy’s face, but she looked longingly into Therese’s eyes. They felt as deep as twilight and as big as the galaxy above them. They communicated more than words could – a promise, a thankfulness, a love that hung itself above them in the sky, centring them.

Therese wished she could close the gap between them, to kiss her in front of Rindy, but it was too soon. She made a mental note to do so later, once they were alone and out of Rindy’s earshot.

‘How are you both feeling?’ Carol asked, her eyes still holding Therese in orbit. The meaning behind her words had felt more like _I love you_.

‘Much better.’ Therese replied, smiling at the way the girl beside her nodded in agreement.

‘And warmer!’ Rindy added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this make me emotional? Yes. Did I cry a bit at the thought of Therese crossing that line and getting over her fear and being nice and Motherly? YES.
> 
> Did I bitterly sit and write this with my usual 'wow I wished my parents loved me properly and like... called me on my birthday and stuff' brain? Also yes. BUT, YOU KNOW, sometimes you just gotta laugh at how dumb your parents are and realise that your life is full of other, wonderful, amazing people. People don't always mean more just because they share blood, you know? There are people out there who will love you unconditionally and do so with no obligation. 
> 
> So if any of you feel alone or w/e, just know I am HERE to mother you even though I'm only 24. Got crushes you wanna talk about? I'm all ears. Struggling with life or feeling sad? We'll break that shit down together, no problem. Need support? I'll be your own personal cheerleader for free. 
> 
> But seriously, if y'all ever want to talk, I'm here. Love and hugs,  
> Claire


	3. Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently very tired and on the verge of falling asleep, so I'm not entirely sure I can promise the latter half of this is legible. And I know I could wait until I edit some more, but I'm not that person and yall know that. 
> 
> Also, hi!

 

Abby breezed into the apartment quickly, soundlessly, brushing past Carol without a single word or acknowledgement. Her eyes remained hardened and fixed to the floor, as if she were focused on not being seen. The usual quirky all-knowing smile she wore wasn’t to be seen. Instead, her lips were drawn into an uncharacteristically tight line, accentuated by her clenched jaw. After slipping off her shoes brusquely, she flitted her hands up to the collar of her brown houndstooth two-piece suit and patted it flat. In one swift, agitated movement, she then clasped the lapels and tugged them down, cracking her neck to one side as she did so.

The woman paused. Inhaled. And let out one, lengthy puff of air. An outsider might have thought she was preparing for battle, or something equally as daunting.

From the door – that was still being held ajar – Carol looked at her, perplexed. Her blonde, curved eyebrows twitched in surprise and she cleared her throat to say something. But her friend swirled around on the spot abruptly, rendering her silent, and gave her a serious, almost threatening, look.

‘Not one word,’ Abby said slowly, deeply, like an animal growling at an undetermined threat. She raised an index finger in the air and held it in front of Carol’s eye line. ‘Not. One.’

The two women held each other’s gaze intently for a moment. Their bodies froze. It felt like a challenge, as if either one of them might pull out a gun and shoot the other at any moment. Much like the cowboys did in the Western movies they sometimes watched together.

It was tense, and unknown, but not at all unlike their usual exchanges.

After all, their dynamic had always balanced on a tightrope. It was somewhat risky, always uncertain, but forever full of wild thrills and adrenaline. Even as young children, running alongside each other in the countryside, creating games and exploring nature, there had always been an element of danger and tongue-in-cheek behaviour. One quick climb up a tree could become a dangerous match to see who could get the highest, fastest. And they were never beyond clawing at each other to get there, laughing and shouting as they batted each other’s hands away.

But as much as Carol enjoyed wobbling this tightrope and toying with her best friend, she knew that she had to respect the unexpected winds and follow the women’s lead on occasion. And today was one of those days.

It was an important day – for Abby at least – and so Carol had to tone herself down and try to keep the teasing to a minimum. She had to be serious. She had to be what Abby wanted her to be, because she loved her and wanted the best for her.

But, oh, how she liked to tease her and hear her laugh so hard she’d snort.

From her periphery, Carol could see Therese come into view. Her lover was wearing an apron over her outfit that was caked in flour. She had been busy baking cookies in anticipation of the day’s events and its visitors whilst Carol had tidied the apartment.

Noticing the presence of the other woman, too, Abby seemed to become more nervous. Her eyes widened like a rabbit in headlights. She swallowed a hard lump down her throat and palmed her sweaty, fidgeting hands on her skirt.

And Carol just couldn’t help herself any more.

‘Doesn’t Abby look wonderful, darling? Tell her she looks wonderful.’

Therese gave her an uncertain look and hesitated slightly.

‘Why yes, Abby, y-’

The woman bit back at Carol before Therese could finish. ‘What did I say?’ She scowled, staring at Carol.

Therese’s eyes widened in surprise. Carol stifled a laugh with the back of her hand.

Her friend was nervous. Vulnerable. And although she needn’t have been, Carol understood the feeling well. She had felt it too, once upon a time, when she had begun to see more of Therese – back when she hadn’t a clue how far the mutual attraction had gone. Back when she wasn’t sure if Therese could love her.

Yes. Abby was in the same boat, sailing the same unpredictable sea. Each wave and each gust of wind was terrifying in the most addictive, heart-stopping way. It was like any other love and yet completely different. Because there was a deeper, painful root to it. Being in love in the ordinary way – a man and a woman – was easy because it had been allowed and encouraged for centuries and centuries. Being in love with someone of the same sex and navigating the beginnings of a relationship silently and inconspicuously, was dangerous and exhausting. It took more emotional labour. It took risk after risk, lies and heartache.

But it was worth it for a person who complimented Carol as well as Therese. And Carol couldn’t help but hope that it would work out for Abby, too. Because the woman deserved happiness beyond measure.

After months of courting the infamous redhead, Alexandra, Abby had finally plucked up the nerve to ask her out on a date. It was shortly after the new year and the woman had said yes, enthusiastically. They had even kissed. And in the month since, the two had been seeing each other as often as they could. Although their time together was sparing – Abby, of course, lived next to her mother, and Alexandra spend most hours running her own steakhouse – they were growing fonder of one another each day.

And so, Abby had decided, with an encouraging nudge from Carol, to finally introduce the woman.

They were to spend lunch getting to know one another inside the comfort of Carol and Therese’s apartment, away from prying eyes and the occasional harshness of reality.

‘Abby,’ Therese said softly, placing a timid hand on the older woman’s shoulder. ‘It’ll be all right. We’re excited to meet her.’

At the admission of her words, Abby seemed to relax slightly. She closed her eyes, nodded her head loosely and allowed Therese to guide her to an armchair. She sat down and leant back whilst Therese ran off to the kitchen to fetch her a cup of tea and a couple of freshly baked cookies.

Now alone, Carol moved closer towards Abby and perched on the armrest next to her. She reached down to grasp one of the woman’s hands between her own and held it in her lap, bouncing it up and down gently as if she were trying to extract something from the contact.

‘You look happy.’ Abby observed, her voice quieter than before. ‘You’re glowing.’

She released a breathy laugh and bent her head down towards her lap. ‘I know. Can you believe it?’

‘No, actually. I thought I’d have to put up with your moping for the rest of our lives.’

‘You and me both.’

Abby shot her a sideways glance and a teasing smile, of which she returned without hesitation. And then the two of them burst into laughter, leaning into one another and bumping their shoulders together. Carol wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders and pulled her close.

‘We’ve been thought a hell of a lot together, haven’t we?’ She asked. Her eyes betrayed some of the bittersweet nostalgia she felt.

Her mind was a garden of colours, swirling memories of the two of them together like paint. A canvas that had grown and grown as they did. There were the reds and oranges; times from their childhoods that felt otherworldly, ethereal and pure; their brief school years where they had oftentimes gotten into trouble; their eventual, yet unexpected, reunion; the sheer joy of sharing a furniture store together; and, of course, the day Abby had become Rindy’s godmother.

Those were the strokes of happiness, the bold and the brilliant experiences that defined them. They were the roots of their friendship as it was now.

But mingled in between, subtle and slowly blending out of existence, there were blues and greens and purples. Their broken relationship. The confusion and heartbreak and strangled calls through phone wires. Abby’s desperation and Carol’s inability to love her fully, as she needed.

It had been painful. And, for Abby especially, it still was. But the pain had almost gone. The memories lived on between them, but they were rewritten slightly: tainted by better, happier things. Abby was happy for Carol, and Carol was happy for Abby because they had found their own joy both separately and together. They’d expanded. Grown. Their lives were fuller than they had ever been.

‘Don’t get emotional on me now, you nitwit.’

Carol shut her mouth. She paused and breathed deeply.

‘All right, all right.’

But Abby’s expression had softened slightly. Any guard she had been harbouring had vanished, revealing the rawness of her own vulnerability in its place. And Carol was sure, beneath her exterior, that she was running through the reel of their lives together, too. She was measuring the distance.

‘I hope we work out like you two have.’

At that admission, Carol pulled her into an encompassing hug and lingered there for a moment.

‘Don’t worry about everything else, just focus on her.’ She murmured into her ear before pulling away. She kept both of her hands firmly on Abby’s shoulders whilst her eyes scanned her face. ‘And, god help us all, maybe in time she’ll learn to put up with you.’

Therese, who had been standing out of sight observing them silently, keeping her distance, approached the two of them finally and offered Abby a hot mug of tea. Her eyes were glossy, empathising with the situation.

Abby smiled in thanks and patted her on the elbow.

***********************************

The first thing Carol had noticed was her beaming grin: her bold red, curving lips and her full cheeks that were powdered lightly with blush. In that moment, she could see that the woman was gentle, kind and full of light. Her face seemed to radiate warmth and it felt as though she was meeting an old friend; someone she’d known for years, who could put her to ease with a glance and a knowing smile.

Then, of course, there was her hair. Red and coppery like a flame, bouncing and curling tightly like coiled springs above her shoulders. Carol could smell a faint hint of hairspray beneath her spiced, amber perfume. There was something unruly underneath her exterior that her appearance attempted to tame. She was a wildcard, like Abby, but she concealed it well.

But the thing Carol had noticed above all else was the way her blue eyes had sparkled ever so slightly as she took in Abby. There was an apprehension, a pause as she remembered they had company, but she looked at Abby like one might look at the night sky.

‘You must be the wonderful Carol I’ve been hearing so much about.’ Alexandra said, her voice as sweet and thick as honey. ‘How lovely it is to finally meet you!’ Then she turned to face Therese and clasped her hands. ‘And you, of course, must be Therese.’

They made their brief, but friendly, introductions to one another before Therese led her into the living room. Inside, they had created a spread of baked goods, sandwiches and cured meats, and pots of tea and sparkling wine. The apartment looked pristine, and their dining crockery and cutlery was tasteful enough to make the spread look like a high British breakfast tea. In the background, to give the room a sense of atmosphere, murmured some faint jazz music that was emanating through the radio speaker.

Carol had wanted to give the two of them a good first impression, despite Therese’s initial protests. Her lover thought they needn’t make such a gimmick of the occasion, but after some gentle persuasions on Carol’s part she had been convinced.

She watched Abby lightly hold Alexandra’s hand and guide her to the sofa. The two of them sat with their legs pressed closely against each other, though they kept their hands together in their laps.

‘So, Alexandra… You must tell me how Abby won your heart over. She’s told me very little.’ Carol began, her lips curled into a gentle smile, but her eyes remained questioning and perceptive. She wanted to take in everything about the woman, from her mannerisms from the words she chose to speak.

The woman poured herself a cup of tea, stirring in two sugars and a dash of milk. ‘Please, call me Alex.’ She said before taking a sip. ‘And it’s a long story.’

Her eyes met Abby’s, as if to ask if she could go ahead with the story. The woman nodded and placed a tentative hand on her knee, but only for a few seconds before withdrawing. Their intimacy was new, it seemed, and demonstrating it in front of others was a rare luxury. One had to be careful and inconspicuous when out in the open, as Carol knew all too well.

‘The first time I noticed her was well over a year ago. She came into my restaurant one day – we were low on staff, so I picked up the slack and served her. Do you know, I can’t even remember what we said to each other, honey?’ She bit her lower lip to stifle a laugh.

‘I ordered the ribeye steak and when you served me you dropped a damn grilled tomato on my lap.’ Abby protested, her lips hopelessly twitching as she reacted to Alexandra smile. ‘You didn’t even give me another. You still owe me one.’

The two laughed together, forgetting about Carol and Therese’s presence in the room. But they were sat listening with smiles in their eyes, happy that their friend had found someone to joke with.

‘Well, anyway. Somehow, she kept coming back, every other week or so. She’d sit there in the same spot and order three or four coffees over the span of a few hours. I knew it was a ploy to see me-’

‘No you didn’t.’ Abby tutted, rolling her eyes.

‘I did! I saw you looking at me.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘You were.’ Alexandra lightly smacked one of the woman’s legs. ‘But she stopped coming in for a while, from January to April. I thought maybe she’d only been visiting on a holiday.’

‘Oh?’ Carol chimed in, quietly.

January to April had been the months she’d spent apart from Therese. Those were the months that had been filled with courtroom arguments, forced lunches with Harge and his family, limited visitations with Rindy, and psychiatric appointments that had made her stomach churn. Those had been the months where she had lied awake at night, sleeplessly, thinking of Therese in spite of being told not to. Her heart had felt painful the entire time. But each month brought a different sort of pain.

January was a knife wound. February had felt like salt. March grew worse and tiring, weakening her bones. And, April - April had felt of nothing.

But, through it all, Abby had always been on the end of the phone to guide her. She’d bought her groceries without being asked, she stayed by her bed side on some nights until she could fall asleep. On some days, she’d show up at the old house without warning and take her through a brisk drive through the cold countryside.

Carol frowned slightly. Her heart thudded dully in her chest like a faint drumbeat. Abby had given up the chance to pursue a woman she was genuinely interested in for her. To look after her.

She could feel Therese’s eyes burning into her as she choked on the realisation, followed by a hand that rubbed circles on her lower back. Her lover undoubtedly knew, too. Though those months brought Therese a different, but similar, pain.

But her mind was stuck on Abby.

Dear Abby, who was so fiercely loyal, who had done more for her than she knew, but she was too blind to see it. And she felt a surge of love and guilt all at once. Her eyes panned to Abby’s and she held their gaze like it was as fragile as glass. In response, her friend gave her a small nod, as if to say, ‘ _It’s all right, Carol, I know. I understand._ ’

Alex, noticing the silence growing in the room and wanting to fill it, continued her story. And the spell broke.

‘As I was saying, she disappeared on me. But she found me again, by chance, outside of [Tony Pastor’s Downtown](https://www.nyclgbtsites.org/site/tony-pastors-downtown-gay-community-center/) club one evening in Autumn. And then, wouldn’t you know it? She was back in the steakhouse that very weekend.’

‘Well, when I saw you with a drink outside Tony’s I knew I had a chance.’ Abby muttered to herself as she took a sip of wine. ‘I’ve never seen a straight person go to Tony’s.’  

‘We started talking and - as they say - the rest is history. We’ve been seeing each other since.’

The redhead took one of Abby’s hands and rubbed her thumb lightly over her knuckles. Then, in a move that surprised all of them, leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. Abby’s cheeks flushed red in response, and her eyes glossed over on an area of the floor to avoid Carol and Therese’s gaze.

Suddenly, the room felt calmer. Settled. As if the ice had broken and they were all feeling the warmth and intoxication that came from being in good company. The four of them, together, held something secret and special. Something that would always keep them bonded one way or another. It was rooted in themselves and their ability to love in spite of prejudice. 

‘You seem very happy together,’ Therese announced softly, her dimples creasing as she smiled. ‘Don’t they?’ She looked towards Carol as if she was trying to share her joy.

Carol couldn’t help the flutter in her chest at the sight of her. There was something about seeing other couples that made her more appreciative of what she had. And the woman beside her, who was smiling so infectiously, her eyes lighting up in a way that they only did for her, was indeed very beautiful. Almost ethereal. 

As if hearing her thoughts, Therese bunched up closer to her on the sofa. She leaned into her side and buried her head into the crook of her neck for a moment, leaving the ghost of a kiss. A shiver ran down her chest and arms. Her mouth felt dry.

And she wondered how, after over half a year of living together, she could still feel so hopelessly enamoured by her.

‘Hey.’ Abby called out. ‘Would you two knock it off? This was meant to be about us. Unless you’ve forgotten.’

The woman grunted exaggeratedly and doubled over as Alexandra lightly elbowed her in the side.

And the four of them, together, burst into a mutual fit of laughter.

 ******************************

Hours of chatter and good company had passed. Alexandra had apologised profusely for needing to leave, but she had to return to her restaurant in time for the night time rush. Particularly as there was no one else available to manage the staff.  And so, Therese had escorted her outside of the apartment whilst they discussed the ins-and-outs of running a steakhouse.

But Carol had lingered behind, holding Abby’s hand tightly to stop her from leaving too soon.

They looked at one another. And the topic that had sat in the room all afternoon, translucent and out-of-sight, arose once more in front of them. It stood between them, now, like a cascading waterfall.

‘You didn’t have to do that for me,’ Carol said slowly, meaningfully. Her voice was husky and wavering with emotion. ‘You don’t ever, _ever_ , have to forgo your own happiness for me.’

Abby, who so often harboured her emotions behind a thick, towering brick wall, then began to tear up. She closed her eyes as her mouth grimaced. And two tears fell down each cheek.

‘Oh, Carol. I wanted to.’ She whispered brokenly. ‘And you needed me then more than you ever have.’

‘I’ll always need you, darling.’ Carol said, pulling her into a tight hug. ‘ _Always_.’

Her friend nodded against her shoulder as her fingers clutched her cardigan firmly.

‘But it’s time for you to focus on yourself now, all right? I need you to be happy. I want you to be happy.’

They broke apart, searching each other’s faces once more.

‘I am happy, Carol.’ Abby gave her a watery smile. ‘I really am.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason this was a huge struggle to write. But I hope it doesn't read like that. Sigh. Yall, I still have doubts. 
> 
> Also, this is such a weird Q, but I feel the need to ask it... I am, obviously, British... And I was informed the other day that Americans don't have kettles? I know a few of you are from the US... So, was my informant lying? Or do you actually not have kettles? And, if you don't have kettles, how on earth are you making tea???? This is the most British thing I've ever said, but I'm so confused by it and I need to know. I can't imagine a life without a kettle. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you're all good and have wonderful weekends! Sending out love and hugs as usual.


	4. Clair de Lune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 11 (almost 12, because it's 11pm here in the UK) days since I updated. I'm sorry about that, but I really hope you enjoy what I've written!
> 
> It's been through very minimal edits because, well, I'm a bit tipsy and a lot sad. They say a writer should dedicate 50% of their time to editing, but I always charge into everything with a keenness to create, not tamper with. And really that's how I plan to go ahead with life and work and everything else.

 ‘Christ, this is heavy.’ Dannie grunted, his face wincing as beads of sweat began to form on his brow. ‘Jesus, Phil could – no, no, no – lift a little higher, would ya?’

Phil stopped his movements abruptly and squinted his eyelids in disbelief. His arms loosened, straightening so that the bottom of the piano dropped closer towards the ground. The two brothers stood motionless, staring at one another; waiting for something to break, or someone to speak.

‘I’m sorry… A little higher? You kidding me? Dannie I’m carrying all the weight here.’

His younger brother scoffed and threw his head back, flicking his quiff into place.

‘Yeah right. You just dropped your arms. I saw you.’

There was a pause. The air quietened.

The piano was slowly, delicately placed on the level step of the stairwell, in between flights of stairs. And then the two men erupted into a heated shouting match. Each of them in the other’s face, jabbing fingers and rising higher and higher on their tiptoes, fighting for a higher ground.

But the echo of footsteps clattering around them deterred them.

‘Hey!’ Therese yelled, running up the stairs. She slithered her way in between Dannie and Phil with her hands raised up in surrender. There was a playful smirk disguised behind the straight line of her lips. As much as they were both independent adults, they had never been able to grow out of their brotherly rivalry.

The two men’s chests heaved with deep, staggering breaths. Their cheeks were splotchy with flushes of red, emanating the heat of their argument.

‘Sorry, Terry.’ Dannie mumbled. He shuffled his feet together on the ground and reached out an arm to pat Therese’s shoulder.

Phil silently walked to his end of the piano, bent down and grabbed the bottom of the body. ‘Better get this up before Carol comes down and gives us a bollocking, hey?’

In response, Dannie nodded and lifted his end.

On the side lines, Therese guided them up the stairwell and to Carol’s apartment, yelling directions and trying her hardest not to laugh at their quiet bickering.

When they had finally reached the apartment door, which had been wedged open with a dining room chair, Carol greeted them with two bottles of beer and a smile. She ushered them both inside with a wave of her hand. And, dutifully, they shuffled along the apartment floor, grunting through the last torturous steps of their job.

As Therese passed by, Carol dived her head down to kiss her quickly. Unexpectedly. Her blonde hair tickled Therese’s eyelashes.

‘You’ll have to serenade Rindy and I later.’ She murmured.

‘Is that why you bought it?’ Therese asked in a hushed tone, a playful challenge shimmering in her eyes. ‘So I can play for you whenever you’d like?’

Carol smiled warmly and took a moment to ponder her response.

‘Yes. Partly.’ She said. ‘But Derek also gave me a discount, and you know I can’t resist a discount.’

‘Well, if you’re lucky I’ll play for you.’

Their close exchange was disrupted by yet more bickering from the McElroy siblings.

‘I better hand them the beer before they rip each other’s heads off, hm?’

Inside, Phil and Dannie were crouched down beside the ageing black piano, gasping for breath as they reached for Carol’s offering of cold bottles of beer. The glass dripped teasingly with condensation, and they cradled the bottles in their sweating hands as they sat down on the floor simultaneously.

‘Carol says you play?’ Phil questioned monotonously.

Therese opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Yes, she played, but very amateurishly. Carol knew this. But, as with her photography and art, Carol always exaggerated the best of her abilities. She liked to see the best in her. And, because Carol couldn’t play herself, her school-like capabilities were impressive to her.

‘I suppose... I mean, I play a bit.’ She muttered shyly, hiding her face behind a mug of tea. ‘But I haven’t practised in a while.’

‘If you don’t make use of this thing, Terry, I swear to god I’ll kill ya,’ Phil threatened jokingly. He took a large swig from his bottle of beer before placing it on the carpeted floor. ‘Right, Dannie?’

‘Right.’ The younger man nodded before falling silent for a moment. ‘Say, I’ve never seen you play. We have a piano at ours – our Dad’s – but you’ve never touched the thing.’

‘Well…’

Carol placed a comforting hand on her lower back and rubbed it in circles.

‘My Mother taught me,’ Therese continued, ‘but she wasn’t always a kind teacher… Or a kind mother, for that matter.’

‘Ah. I see.’ Dannie said.

‘She did used to play me Clair de Lune when I couldn’t sleep, though…’ Therese muttered, trailing her words off as she trailed her fingers slowly across the white keys; a ghost of a song.

Clair de Lune had been one of her father’s favourite songs. And although the man couldn’t play the piano well himself, he certainly liked to listen to her mother play it as he took time out to paint. Even as a young girl of five, she could still remember his daydream of a smile as he brushed another stroke on the canvas, lucidly moving his head to the music.

_‘Art and music are interlinked, Therese, you see? We can’t have one without the other. And the two together? Magic.’_

She hadn’t understood, but she nodded along anyway because she so enjoyed seeing him smile. To see him create and be carefree, away from offices and trials and the burdens only a lawyer could understand. Those years had been happy, like a dream. Like the sight of a full moon glistening on top of a river, touching everything atop the globe with her delicate light.

And now whenever she saw the moon, she saw him. And whenever she played the piano clumsily, she channelled him. And life as she knew it, although she had known him for such a short time, brought him with it. There were happy times and sad times, but he’d sit in the corner of her mind and survey it all.

Therese wondered what he’d think of Carol, of their relationship. He had been smart and empathetic, artistic and bright. But there wasn’t much she could extract from the little she knew of him. She hadn’t been old enough to understand his political or social views, never mind what he thought about the universality of love as a concept. Even so, she imagined him beaming with acceptance and pride.

The man had loved her so deeply, she knew. And he would love anyone she loved, she thought fondly. That was her image of him. That was how she made peace with the loss of him.

********************

Later that night she lay in bed, tossing and turning.

She’d had a dream about him. She hadn’t in years. But she had seen him as clear as day, reaching out his hand to her, guiding her through her childhood home. His hand had felt solid; real. His smile, crooked and ageing had been as she remembered.

The smell of him – musky and warming, like mulled wine or cinnamon – brought a tear to her eye. How odd it was that such vivid memories could last so long, she wondered.

And the piano in the living room seemed to ring in her ears, buzzing and throbbing like a pulse in their house. A heartbeat. Her past.

After swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she made her way groggily to the piano seat. She sat down, placed her hands on the keys and sighed softly. Her breath whispered out into the dark room, distilling time, surrounding her like another presence.

It was a second-hand instrument; the wood tattered and frayed along the joints, breaking out beneath the black paint. The keys, although shiny, had clearly had some use. And she couldn’t help but wonder where it had come from. Perhaps it had been her mother’s. She lived close by now, didn’t she? It had been a handful of years since they had last spoken face-to-face.

And she didn’t remember what her childhood piano had looked like. But it was comforting to think that someone she loved once upon a time had touched these keys or played music that she enjoyed. Or maybe the piano had no personal meaning at all, with no threads to her old or new life.

But, regardless, she knew that love had gone into it. Whomever had played it had loved music and, perhaps, loved who they played their music to. And wasn’t that wonderful, she thought? That music could be a language of love.

In her mind, swirling and contorting and playfully bouncing around, she heard the notes of Clair de Lune, mysterious and enticing.

Without thinking, she began to play. Messily at first – almost nervously – and, then, after a few moments, confidently. The notes were a crescendo that soared into the still night, bursting through the darkness like the moon. Time stopped. Life stopped. The hum of the piano, slightly out of tune, flowed through her fingertips to her chest.

In the moment, she hadn’t heard the timid footsteps pattering from the second bedroom.

A small finger tapped her shoulder. She threw a hand over her mouth to supress a cry and turned her head sharply to find a shy-looking Rindy.

‘Sorry, Tez.’

Therese closed her eyes and released a breath she had been holding. She placed one of her hands on the girl’s head, ruffling her hair slightly.

‘Did I wake you?’ Therese asked, now feeling guilty that she had been so inconsiderate. She wondered if Carol had heard the noise, too.

‘No…’ The young girl mumbled. ‘I couldn’t sleep…’

She gave Rindy a sympathetic look, her face gently illuminated by the white moon and flickering yellow streetlight pouring in from the balcony window. Placing two hands under the girl’s armpits, she lifted her up and sat her on her lap. Then she began to stroke the back of her hair in slow motions.

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘No.’

‘You sure? I’m a pretty good listener.’

Rindy fidgeted in her lap and hummed defeatedly.

‘I miss Mommy.’

Her eyebrows furrowed together. ‘Your Mommy’s only in the other room, I can get her if you lik-‘

‘I don’t see her much.’ The girl said decidedly.

And it was true.

Even after the events of the Autumn, Harge had still only permitted Rindy to visit them very occasionally every fortnight. And that was if he hadn’t already slyly arranged an outing with the girl’s grandparents. It was enough, for them, because at one point they hadn’t expected anything, but it was still tough for Rindy. It didn’t give her the routine she needed.

‘You know, if she had it her way, you’d never leave her side.’ Therese joked. ‘She loves you so very much.’

Rindy’s head dipped lower, towards her lap. ‘I guess.’

‘Well I know. And she’d hate to see you upset.’

The two of them sat in mutual silence, comfortable in their gentle embrace. Then, Therese placed the girl’s hands onto the piano keys.

‘I used to miss my father a lot.’ She admitted. ‘Every day, in fact. For a long, long time. So I suppose I know how it feels.’

The girl sniffed, as if she was suppressing tears or stopping herself from saying any more about how she was feeling.

‘Where is he?’

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers, placed delicately on top of Rindy’s, loosened. She felt numb and yet, somehow, she also felt a surge of everything. Like a tidal wave had emerged in her suddenly, appearing behind decades of mist. Her bones were brittle but stiffened in wait. And her heart felt as if it gaped open to the world, vulnerable and expectant. 

‘I-I’m actually not sure. He's somewhere I can’t reach him.’

The sadness seeped out of her words, but Rindy was none the wiser. 

‘Have you tried to reach him?’

She laughed a little at the girl’s sweet naivety, but it wasn’t entirely genuine. Had she tried to reach him? Yes. Of course she had, in her own way.

In her Catholic school, she had prayed alongside the nuns, but also by herself. She had spoken to God in the mornings and the evenings and had told God to speak to him, her father. She had whispered into the night, her knees bruising against the tile floors, her cheeks grazing the scratchy material of her bed sheet. The tears that cascaded down her cheeks seemed to be collected by the handkerchief she kept reliably by her bedside. And her hands had clasped her one and only message tightly to her chest: _I love you and I miss you_ _and I wish you would come back. Please come back._

But her father had never responded. He had never emerged from the fog, in piece and stronger than before.

There were no signs, bold or subtle. No guidance from God. No comforting words from the Catholic nuns. God hadn’t had mercy upon her.

Even her mother had thrown away the last remaining possessions of her father’s – the only physical attachment she had had to him.

There was nothing but grief. Mourning. Tears that burnt and tears that soothed. Nights where she couldn’t sleep and mornings where she couldn’t wake. And, of course, his gravestone, that stood strong in wind and rain, snow and thunder. He was buried in the ground, miles out of town; a reminder of his passing. 

In the years since his death, her life had become a hungry hole; starving her and taking from her, extracting the flesh from her bones.

And, oh, how it had hurt then as a child who had no real understanding of the world.

And how it had hurt now, in the darkness, holding a child that she loved as dearly as her father had loved her.

The thought of Rindy missing her mother – even in a weaker sense – sent a sharp stabbing pain through her, much like a lightning bolt.

‘Rindy,’ she said, her voice muffled by the onset of tears. ‘Do you know how to play?’

‘No… Daddy wouldn’t let me play at home. He said I wasn't old enough.’

‘Well… I used to play as a child. And I'd play this one song in particular whenever I missed my father. The song would make me feel closer to him. Do you understand what I mean?’ Therese explained slowly.

‘I think so.’

‘Here,’ She said, adjusting the girl’s hands so her fingers were on the right beginning keys. ‘Press these… Yes, good… And now these…’

Rindy laughed loudly, pleased that she had been able to create a pleasant-sounding noise. ‘Tez, I did it!’ She said loudly, her lips stretching into a wide grin. The girl played the same note again, louder than before, and bounced up and down in her lap. 

She couldn’t help but laugh, too, at the sight of the girl. She was so easily entertained by something that was so small. Rindy was innocent and pure, untouched by the grief and sadness Therese had experienced throughout the years. And she felt an overwhelming urge to protect her from the darkness of life. If she could save her from the upset she had felt, she would. Always. 

‘I’ll teach you the rest in the morning,’ Therese whispered. ‘And then you can play it for your Mom.’

A cough sounded from behind them. Rindy, suddenly worried that she’d get into trouble, curled herself into Therese and hid her head in the crook of her neck. Stifling a laugh, Therese wrapped her arms around her tightly and held her protectively.

‘It’s one in the morning.’ Carol groaned huskily, rubbing her thumb and index finger across her temples. Her hair was fraying out to the sides wildly and her nightshirt had been unbuttoned slightly in her sleep.

Therese couldn’t help the heavy pull of her eyelids and the deep, warming sensation that pooled in her stomach at the sight of her. She was beautiful even at one in the morning.

‘Sorry, Momma,’ Rindy whispered.

But Therese placed a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder, stopping her from speaking further.

‘She couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d play her some music.’

The blonde woman smiled in spite of her lack of sleep and tired eyes. ‘Well, I’ll allow it I suppose. But that’s enough for now, sweetheart. You need your sleep.’

She approached the two of them and lifted the young girl into her arms. After allowing Rindy to say a brief ‘goodnight’ to Therese, she wondered off into the second bedroom and tucked her daughter back into her bed.

A few moments later, she tiptoed back into the living room and sat herself beside Therese on the piano stall. Her shoulder pressed against her; something solid, tangible, to cling onto. And Therese sighed as she rested her head against her cheek.

‘Are you all right, darling?’ Carol asked, wrapping an arm around her before kissing her forehead.

‘Yes.’ She said truthfully, though it was thick with unspoken emotion.

Carol could sense her pain, she knew, and pulled her closer.

‘Let me take you back to bed.’

Tears started to collect in her eyes against her will. And then they trailed slowly down the curve of her cheeks, marking their path across her skin. She shakily agreed and clutched Carol’s hand.

The two of them walked back into their bedroom and curled up amongst each other. And Therese’s pain, that had always ebbed and flowed alongside the waning moon, vanished behind Carol’s embrace.

In the morning, the three of them awoke lazily and gathered behind the piano, emitting their own memory into the world. And Therese wondered if the fingerprints on the keys would remain there beyond their own lifetimes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been desperately wanting to write another chapter of this for the past week and more, but Life has gotten in the way, as it always does. I'm sure you all know the feeling. 
> 
> I just want you all to know that I have read your comments from my last chapter over and over. They mean so much to me, and I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to responding properly! I have responded more than once or twice in my head, if that helps. 
> 
> A very, very lovely and good childhood friend of mine is currently in end-of-life care (she's been battling with brain cancer for seven years, but there's only so many times you can treat it and, well, the last round hasn't worked). She lives hundreds of miles away from me, but I managed to visit her and her parents in her hospice last week, which was wonderful but upsetting. She's not well, and now disabled, and is very much scared to die. She's 24 in a few days, if she makes it. It's deeply getting to me in ways no other pain or grief (?) or mourning (?) has, and so I don't know how it's going to affect me. 
> 
> I know y'all don't need to hear that stuff, but I selfishly kinda need an outlet of sorts. As much as I - obviously - only know a fraction of the pain she and her family are going through, it's still a lot to deal with. I feel so selfish saying that. But it's going to be hard for me. 
> 
> Anyway, please do let me know how you're all doing in the comments - I do think of you often, and I really do wish you all the best. And I love hearing about your days/weeks/months/lives!
> 
> Love and hugs, as always,  
> Claire


	5. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Okay, so this should probably be a one-shot, but it ain't (I may post it separately at some point, though!)
> 
> This chapter is split into three smaller chapters and we take a little glimpse into the (sad) past of Carol and Therese. It's quite a jump back. Hopefully it won't confuse what I had going on too much, but please let me know if it does.
> 
> Inspired by Billie Holiday's 'I'll Be Seeing You'

## Sunlight

_January  - April 1952_

 

Her fingers loosened around the handle. A sharp noise reverberated around the room as her suitcase clattered to the ground. Dust fluttered up and into the musty air, falling to the ground slowly, glistening in the dimming sunlight like tiny snowflakes. She looked around aimlessly, her heart hammering with panic, her shoulders sagging.

She was alone in an apartment that no longer felt like home. She had outgrown it somewhere out on the road further west. And her reflection in the mantelpiece glass ornaments and mirrors looked different: distorted. Her face wasn’t her own, her heart wasn’t her own.

Carefully, she used one foot to push the suitcase to a corner, sliding it across the floor.

Abby had dropped her off by the curb side, albeit begrudgingly. The woman didn’t want to leave her, but Therese couldn’t stomach having her around any longer. She was a reminder of something too painful and raw.

Therese was alone because she thought she needed the space. And _didn’t_ she? After all, she hadn’t had space in weeks.

But it didn’t feel satisfying. It didn’t make her feel any happier. In fact, now that she had it, she felt an urge to run outside and yell down the street for Abby to come back and keep her company. Therese had never much liked the woman, but she did mean well. She kept her strong. And, much like she had done on their travels back to New York, she could make her tea and remind her to change her clothes and bed linen: things that felt so unimportant in comparison to mourning the absence of Carol.

Her knees suddenly buckled, rattling inside her, and she fell to the floor. Therese sat with her knees bunched up tightly to her chest and began to hyperventilate.

Carol had gone. Abby had gone. Even Richard, though she felt nothing for him, had gone.

There was only emptiness, the dull thudding of her heart, the rhythmic tapping of her finger on the wooden floor. Her breathing was uneven and suppressed.

Was this really her apartment? Was this really her? She clamped her eyes shut.

Had Carol really gone?

The cold apartment made her shiver. And the ghost of Carol sliding the suitcase through her front door, just before Christmas, fluttered into her mind against her will. Carol had walked across this floor, had touched her furniture and her hand. She lingered here, around her, faintly, in the dimming light, casting herself over every memory.

But she wasn’t real, their love hadn’t been real because Carol had thrown it away.

She found the strength to rise from the floor and forcibly shut her curtains. She didn’t want to look into the sunlight.

******************

Therese’s first day of work had swum by like a hazy dream, lucid and tepid before her eyes. The universe seemed to carry her through time and space gently, as if it somehow knew she was close to breaking point. Her arms had swung beside her thinning waist, her shoes had scuffed the polished floors as she shuffled along, and her mouth seemed to pull downwards at the corners. The roll in her shoulders, the weight of her loss, clamped her to the ground. But she made a point of holding her chin up, parallel to the sky.

The new passing faces – colleagues, superiors, soon-to-be-friends – blurred into meaningless background noise. They became things to be avoided, at least temporarily, because she didn’t have the energy for them.

She made a point of hardening the muscles in her face to stop her from showing even the slightest twitch of emotion. Therese didn’t want to crack. And, despite her fragility, she had ended up feeling stronger in herself. Her mind was a closed door, unbreakable like steel, protecting her as good as it could from outside threats. Even with Dannie’s quiet persuasions, timid leading questions and prying eyes, she gave nothing away.

Therese focused her sights forward. She kept her heart, with its dull thuds that ricocheted in her chest, set on the future, whatever it would hold. And she worked dutifully, proudly, until it was time to return to her apartment.

And things had to get better, hadn’t they? She would ask herself as she walked through the bustling New York streets alone.

She was working towards a career she was proud of. She had a small group of reliable close friends. She drunk at parties and spoke confidently and dressed smartly. She’d even cut her hair.

She felt lighter and brand new in many ways. Because she was older. Wiser.

So, things _had to get better_. Hadn’t they?

Because things had changed. Steps were being made. She was storming through life like a lion after its prey, relentless and hungry. The life she had so desperately wanted as a child was slowly flooding her periphery, surrounding her and overwhelming her: a target nestled amongst tall grass and trees.

Things were good, weren’t they? Therese would mumble to herself as she sat alone in her armchair.

But the silence didn’t respond.

She still felt trapped in a cage, seeing but never feeling; never experiencing much of anything. As if her nerve endings had been clamped shut.

In those moments where she was aware of the vacancy, she found life difficult. She looked behind, not ahead. Sometimes, when it hit like a tidal wave, she felt unable to breathe, caught up in the cycle of the wave.

And then, like the sun setting over the fluidity of it all, the past began to burn as brightly as it had done that first week in January. It sparked life into her chest against her will, despite the salt water flooding her lungs. Because there was pleasure to be had in remembering it. There was joy in pretending that things might work out the way she had dreamt they would. And, oh, how she had dreamt of being enveloped and kissed and taken to foreign countries where they’d eat and smile together.

But, then, always, a plummeting feeling would overcome her: the feeling of falling. And no matter how hard she had tried to stop it, to delay it, she always flung out into the shore, crashing.

Reality, like a jagged cliff’s edge, broke her brittle bones again, rendering her lifeless. And she always squinted at the bright sharpness of it, tears in her eyes, and wondered how life could be so painfully unfair.

Every night, every morning, in every moment of peace, the past made its presence known and she welcomed it without question. Because it had made her feel something. It was _something_. And Therese knew that she’d take the pain over and over again, repeatedly, just to feel it. Just to remember the essence of her.

The yellow rays of sun that looked like her hair; the flickering burning in her chest that coiled like her smile; the blue tint of her cool eyes; the monotonous tone of the radio set that reminded her of their car journeys together.

It was all Carol.

It was Carol she could see when she closed her eyes, like the bright midday sun beating down on her, flashing behind her eyelids like blossoming orange trees. She was so sweet to think of, but sour to remember.

As the weeks went by, however, she began to struggle more. And she had almost laughed, because she truly thought it’d get better.  

Therese always thought it would get better.

Breathing didn’t come easily, though it always came easier than sleep. Silence agitated her. Her hands shook uncontrollably, as if her mind couldn’t quite make her body function as it should. And the undeveloped cannisters of film by her kitchen sink, that she had promised to throw away, seemed to call to her in her sleep, humming louder and louder. They were reminding her that the small details of Carol’s face – her freckles, the way her eyelashes curved – were fading ever so slightly.

Regardless of how often she had sworn that she’d allow herself to forget, she couldn’t. Therese wasn’t ready to let go.

So, she painted her walls green with the help of Dannie. It was a green that reminded her of Waterloo, but she swore she had chosen it because she liked the colour and not because of Carol.

One evening, she had eventually felt compelled to develop the photographs of their road trip, alone, in her makeshift darkroom. She had stayed strong, not crying, because she had already cried over her enough. But the reminder of Carol’s face strangled her heart, pushing her to exhaustion. It pushed her to call her.

But all she had gotten was the drone of a dead line. Her arm, heavy and limp, placed the device back on the receiver. And she found the strength to climb back up to her apartment and collapse against the front door, sobbing as if she had been left all over again.

Therese pulled off her clothes, threw them to the floor and decided against eating for the fourth night in a row. She wasn’t ever hungry.

And, when she had retired to bed, she could think of nothing but the feeling of Carol’s arms around her and the way she breathed deeply, serenely as she slept. She didn’t want to think of it. She didn’t want to think of her. But there was nothing else. Not even her job had meant as much as Carol had.

Her apartment had suddenly felt huge, engulfing, like a cave in the middle of nowhere, and she wondered if it could ever hold enough room for all her sadness.

********************

One morning, as she watched the sun cast itself atop the unpacked suitcase in the corner of her bedroom, she was reminded of a song she had once heard years ago. She hummed it to herself with her eyes closed and let her heart clasp around the lyrics and claim them as her own.

> _I'll be seeing you_  
>  In all the old familiar places  
>  That this heart of mine embraces  
>  All day and through  
>  In that small cafe  
>  The park across the way  
>  The children's carousel  
>  The chestnut trees  
>  The wishing well
> 
> _I'll be seeing you_  
>  In every lovely summer's day  
>  In everything that's light and gay  
>  I'll always think of you that way
> 
> _I’ll find you in the morning sun…_

 

She hadn’t allowed herself to think of Carol, truly, deeply, for a few weeks now. Of course, she always sat in the corner of her mind, but Therese only ever permitted herself a glance. But the morning sunlight had always reminded her of Carol. Of the sun in her eyes, the occasional smile she shot her when she was in a good mood, the flush in her cheeks as they walked together in the cold.

Carol was much like the sunlight; she lit up everything she touched, and yet she had burnt her.

She missed her so deeply it ached.

It was mid-April, now. And the sun was brighter than it had been all Winter. And wasn’t the world meant to feel happier in Spring? Wasn’t the sun meant to give energy and not take it?

The yellow light blinded her like Carol had and heated her flesh. But she didn’t want it. Therese bunched up her duvet and covered her head from the light, biting her lip to stifle a cry, and let herself fall into the darkness.  

## Moonlight

_January  - April 1952_

 

The plane had departed at 5am on the dot. In her typical fashion, Carol had almost missed it - and she would have if she had been left to her own devices. But, fortunately, her best friend had been on call to pull and push her through the ordeal.

Despite the bags under her eyes and her understandable exhaustion, Abby dutifully hurried her along, all but dragging her away from Therese’s sleeping form. She had been a source of tough love: a pillar of strength. And without her she wasn’t sure she’d be able to leave for New York at all.

Carol had folded her lover’s pyjamas, held them close to her chest and breathed in the scent, and then laid them on the unused twin bed. She didn’t dare risk another glance at Therese.

When the door had clicked shut, she released a single breath and allowed Abby to guide her outside of the motel. In spite of it all, she held her head high all the way to the airport and remained silent, even when Abby had asked her question after question. One word – one movement – and she knew what little strength she had left would break, splitting her down the middle.

The flight was a blur. The coughing of infants, the snoring of businessmen, the hushed conversations of strangers were barely noticeable. What would have once irritated her became irrelevant. Because Carol didn’t have the capacity or the will to think of anything else. She had set her eyeline on one thing: Rindy. Her beautiful, powerful, loving daughter. Her entire world.

Her responsibility as a mother came first and foremost, as it always would, but more so now than ever before. The situation with Harge and the private detective had thrown her off, shattering what foundations she had, and she knew the months ahead of her would be the hardest of her life.

The primal instinct to tear Harge apart was all-consuming, dizzying. But she had to work smart to keep Rindy. She had to pander to him.

And that meant leaving Therese.

A woman she was falling in love with. _No_ , she thought, as she caught a glimpse of the full moon through the airplane window. She _loved_ her.

Carol loved Therese in a way she hadn’t loved anyone before. Not Harge, not Abby.

And she had left her alone, unaware, in a motel room with Abby. She had left her with only a measly letter as a way of goodbye.

Carol’s grey eyes began to prickle with the beginnings of tears. She fixed her gaze on the moon once more, admiring its ethereal white light. It was gorgeous, standing out amongst the pitch-black sky, dangling above the wispy white and grey clouds. It drew her in, illuminating her grey eyes, mesmerising her. And in it she saw Therese, strange and beautiful in her own way; flung out of space. She was a white light, an angel, the moon itself.

_Therese_.

Her eyelids shut. She rested the back of her head against the cushion of the seat and pulled down the black-out screen. Now wasn’t the time to think of Therese, she thought.

But she wondered if she could ever find the strength not to think of her.

*********************

She’d arrived uncharacteristically early for her sixth appointment, though not by her own accord.

Harge had dropped her off and escorted her inside after failing to meet his promise of allowing her a short late afternoon visit with Rindy. But his behaviour wasn’t unusual. The man hadn’t met many of his promises since she’d returned back home, even after she’d agreed to his conditions.

It was a way of keeping her in line. It was Harge’s sick attempt at forcing her to attend psychiatric appointments that she didn’t need. He raised her hopes up with some small offerings only to tear them down.

Her cheek was still burning from where he had kissed her goodbye. And it burned in a way that disgusted and repulsed her. The man thought he owned her because he had her under his thumb. A part of him truly believed that she was attending the conversion therapy sessions so that she could learn to love him.

How wrong he was, she thought, and how stupid, too.

As she sat waiting in the reception waiting room, she kept her eyes firmly planted to the floor, avoiding the clinical whiteness of the office furniture. It was ghastly and blinding, but not in a pleasant way. It made her stomach churn.

‘Mrs. Aird?’ A greying man in a tailored black suit poked his head around an office door. ‘Good to see you. Come on in.’

She counted to three in her head and forced a pursed smile, as she always did, and followed him inside.

‘How have you been?’ He asked her cheerily, though his expression disguised a hint of repugnance. ‘Enjoying the mid-March sunshine?’

‘I’m well. And yes. Thank you.’ Carol responded monotonously, ignoring the busy walls full of framed diagrams and charts.

And then the session began. She stilled her mind, wrung her hands together, tapped her feet on the ground, and let the hour pass her by as if it were simply a nightmare. Because Carol knew, deep down, that the psychoanalysis wouldn’t work. Not because she didn’t want it to – although she, admittedly, _didn’t_ want it to – but because she knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right for the world to judge her for whom she loved or was attracted to. It wasn’t scientifically possible to change her brain or her heart. It would have made her laugh if it wasn’t so painful.

She nodded when he spoke, she uttered a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ unless she had to expand on her answers, she neither smiled nor cried. On the average appointment, he’d pry into her past relationships and her childhood. He’d ask personal, intrusive questions that offended and hurt her. But, by this point, she had grown used to it.

And, so, she did all she could to stomach it. She glazed her eyes over and filled her thoughts with Rindy. Rindy playing in the garden, Rindy bouncing up and down on her knees, Rindy singing and dancing through the house.

Suddenly, Dr. Gledhil, her psychiatrist, pulled out a pouch of photographs from a draw under his desk. She twitched. He hadn’t shown her any pictures before, and she didn’t know what to expect.

‘I want you to look at these and tell me whether you are, or aren’t, attracted to these people.’ He muttered, spreading six photographs across the table: three men and three women. ‘I’ll know if you’re lying.’

She muffled a scoff.

For the first five, she answered ‘no’ swiftly and painlessly. Dr. Gledhil seemed unbothered by her dismissal of the men, though she suspected he was annoyed by it. The man believed that she should direct all of her energy onto the opposite sex, both sexually and romantically, and will herself to change. That, apparently, was the only way she could “cure” herself.

But when the sixth photograph was pushed towards her, she faltered.

It was a subtle likeness. Barely similar. But the woman’s hair, and her dimpled smile, seemed so familiar, like an artist’s mediocre attempt at something that was too beautiful to replicate.

She looked so much like Therese.

It took her breath away. Not because she was attracted to the woman, but because it had made her think of her.

And Carol hadn’t allowed herself to think of her during the day, particularly during session times.

It felt comforting, in an odd way, as if the woman was with her now, her hand gently clasping her shoulder. Her heart soared, scaling up in her body, before shattering into her stomach. Carol battled away tears and swallowed hard.

‘Mrs. Aird, is something the matter?’

Her fingers lightly ghosted over the outline of the woman in the photograph. Carol let her lungs expand as much as they could and then held her breath, ignoring the shooting pains coursing through her veins, centralised in her chest. Her head throbbed with the temptation to think of her. And, in the moment, she realised she was too weak to fight against it.

She couldn’t help it.

And, so, as if replaying a reel of film, she thought of Therese as she had been in Waterloo: carefree, happy, and potentially even in love with her, too. It was difficult not to twitch her lips into a smile at the memory. That morning they had embraced each other until the sun had swapped out the moon’s place, and Therese had commented how she would remember the room and its green walls forever. The two of them, together, had drowned out the world and its many troubles. And now, sat in the psychiatrist’s office, Carol felt a deep desire in the pit of her stomach to scrap her life and return to that vacuum of time.

Dreaming of Therese would be better than having no Therese at all.

And anyway, she thought, how long ago had Therese tried to call her? It had been weeks, hadn’t it?

The niggling fear that the woman had moved on and forgotten her settled inside her mind, and the pain inside her trebled. Carol felt weaker than she had done before.

What if she never saw her again? What if an image of a cheap lookalike would be the closest she would ever get to her?

Carol loved her, still, and she knew she always would. But she had let her go, she had set her free. And she had committed to a life of fake science, forced love and pity for the sake of Hargess and his jealousy.

Dr. Gledhil coughed, pulling her out of her reverie.

She swallowed thickly and placed a shaking hand over her mouth. ‘No, I’m not attracted to this woman.’

There was a pause.

‘Are you sure?’ The doctor asked suspiciously. He waited for an answer, but when he saw her face turn a pale sheet of white, he wove his way around the desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you all right, Mrs. Aird?’

No. She felt sick. She was exhausted.

‘What would it matter if I was. Attracted to a woman, I mean.’ She said exasperatedly. ‘Hm?’

The man looked taken aback. Up until that moment, Carol had been the perfect patient for him, doing as he wished and seemingly making progress. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You listen to the words of Bergler, you listen to scared politicians looking for scapegoats. But it strikes me that you don’t listen to nature or history, nor those with scientific and social reasoning.’ She grabbed her handbag quickly and rose from her seat. ‘ _Kinsey_! Now there’s a man who understands the nature of homosexuality and the harmlessness of it.’

Carol strutted towards the door, but the doctor stopped her with a single hand around her wrist. ‘Carol,’ he murmured deeply, almost threateningly, ‘I’m putting you down for a month added treatment. And don’t think we won’t be talking about this next session, all right? I expect you to try harder.’

Carol clicked her tongue and opened the door.

‘Do what you must, but I am who I am.’

She had left the appointment feeling stronger than she had done in a long while.

But it didn’t last – it couldn’t last.

She had gone back to the next session, and the next, and the next, only to find that the psychiatrist was feeding her progress back to Harge. The man heavily persuaded her to do better, to be better, to fight against her instincts. Because if she didn’t – if she couldn’t convince the world she was sufficiently “normal” – Rindy would be taken from her again, permanently.

And, so, the fire inside her began to dim, until eventually she lost what little of herself she had retained. She kept quiet, she spent her time alone, she allowed Harge to plate up her food and hold her arm. She even limited her visitations with Abby, lest Harge found out they were seeing one another.

Her life dimmed and darkened. She let the blackness swamp her.

*******************************

> _… when the night is new_
> 
> _I’ll be looking at the moon_
> 
> _But I’ll be seeing you_

The record whirled around on her bedside table, occasionally crackling into the night like a fire. Billie Holiday’s voice comforted her like a warm blanket, but it did nothing to make her smile.

Carol lay on her side and stared at the thin, white curtains as they billowed in the night time breeze. She sucked in a deep, sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut as another tear cascaded onto her pillow. And, like most nights, her shoulders heaved as her quiet crying turned into another wracking sob. She reached out an arm to reset the needle and replay the song, increasing the volume of the music as she did.

Through the curtains, she caught a glimpse of the waning moon – a slither of silver, almost fading into the blackness – and thought of Therese.

She wondered whether she was asleep or laying awake, restless, like herself. She thought about what pyjamas she was wearing, and what she might have eaten for dinner that day. She tried to picture her smile and the playful gleam it brought out in her eyes.

But, most of all, she hoped she was looking at the moon and thinking of her, too.

 

## A Solar Eclipse

_14 th February 1953_

 

The balcony doors were pushed wide open, showcasing a panoramic view of New York city. The cold February air wound its way through the apartment corridors, fluttering life into idle stacks of newspapers and photographs. Outside on the terrace, two garden chairs had been pulled up alongside a small metal nesting table.

‘Darling, did you pick up the special glasses from Dannie?’ Carol called out as she heard her lover rush through the front door.  

‘Yes, yes, here,’ Therese said, slightly out of breath, placing them onto the living room table. ‘How long have we got?’

Carol glanced at her watch. ‘Ten minutes.’

And when she raised her head, Therese caught a glimpse of the excitement bubbling inside her. It was their first Valentine’s day together and, although Carol wasn’t much a fan of the holiday, the universe had already organised their plans for them. A total solar eclipse was due, and they had front row seats from their apartment.

Side-by-side, they spent a few minutes plating up cakes, cheeses and biscuits. They poured flutes of champagne and filled up a cafetière of coffee to keep them going, which they organised on the table outside.

‘Ready?’ Therese asked, her dimples prominent.

‘Ready.’

The two of them sat next to one another outside, chatting about nothing, happy to be in each other’s presence, until it was time to place on their glasses and watch the moon and sun dance. Across the chairs, they clasped their hands together and squeezed.

The light of the world began to dim, feigning night time, as the moon crept closer and closer to the sun, embracing her.

And eventually all that was left was a small ring: a circle, glowing white and yellow. It was neither sun, nor moon, but something that had been forged between the two of them. The light radiated over Carol and Therese, and it felt like their doing; as if, somehow, they had made it happen by willing it to.

Their fingers interlinked. Carol tugged Therese closer until their mouths were inches apart and then kissed her. And everything in the world, and everything outside of it, suspended in space, seemed to pale in comparison to the light they emitted together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. There's a lot to say, but isn't there always? 
> 
> I'll start by thanking all of you for your extremely kind, heartfelt words and well wishes. I've been having an incredibly tough time and your support really does help to keep my head above water - a lot of the comments brought a tear (or seven) to my eyes. I'm very fortunate to have such lovely, kind people in my life. Even though I'm not feeling great, I'm getting so much strength from other people, which is weird and new to me. Sometimes it overwhelms me, but it's keeping me going and keeping me sane. 
> 
> Anyway, that's the sad stuff. As a separate disclaimer, there was in fact a solar eclipse on 14th Feb 1953.... but it was partial..... and was not seen from the USA. BUT. I can make stuff up, right? Yes, I can. And I have. So there!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed the chapter - please let me know what you're up to and how you are. I hope you've all got beautiful weather, too. It's uncharacteristically sunny for England and a wren just popped into my garden for a sing. :)


	6. Prince Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was much longer than I was expecting, but that's how it goes sometimes. Minimal edits, as per. I try to keep it as coherent as possible at least. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

The sound of water spurting into the air and thundering down onto flat, cool stone began to trickle into their ears as they walked under the archway and closer to the fountain.

It was late February, but Spring was already closing in on New York. The grass of Washington Square park was dotted randomly with bright yellow buttercups, shooting out of the ground like stars. Surrounding them, small redbud trees were beginning to blossom, their tiny pink flowers shaking gently in the wind, scattering petals on the ground.

Carol was dressed in a flowing button-down white dress, tied across the waist with a small strip of fabric. To match her characteristic lipstick, she wore a pair of striking red sunglasses that were sitting atop her blonde hair. The knuckles of her hand, which clutched a black bag, brushed against the curve of Therese’s hip ever so slightly. She felt the outline of Carol’s garnet ring, and Therese couldn’t help but smile.

The sun beamed down on the three of them – Rindy, of course, storming ahead and leading them forwards. The city felt cleaner, gentler, and the smell of newly budding flowers was intoxicating, winding its way into Therese’s nose and relaxing her. Carol was beside her, content now that the coldness of winter was fading.

‘We really should take that trip away to Europe, don’t you think?’ Carol asked, her head pointed towards the sky. Her eyes traced the line of a plane cloud and her nose twitched as a stray strand of hair tickled her. ‘Perhaps soon.’

She always spoke of travelling, of seeing new places together and taking car rides across country roads and city streets. Ever since she had known her, Carol had an addiction of seeking new, untouched things. Now that they were together, she wanted them both to experience those things as one. And Therese welcomed it – perhaps, she thought, with more passion – because she would do anything so long as it was with, or for, Carol.

In response to her silence, Carol shook her head slightly and smiled. She had grown used to her delayed responses and daydreams.

Therese had the sudden urge to grasp her hand, pull her to her chest and hold her close suddenly. She wanted to smell her perfume, kiss the dip of her neck, feel the fabric of her dress… But she stood and watched, keeping Rindy’s bounding form in her periphery as she did so.

‘Yes, we should. Europe sounds good.’ She said simply. ‘Just the two of us?’

A bold hand snaked around to her lower back, leading her onward. ‘Yes, just the two of us. Rindy’s spending Easter with Harge and his family. It’ll be nice to spend time away together, anyway.’  

At the mention her name, Rindy’s head whipped around to face them both. ‘Daddy’s taking us to Forida!’

‘ _Florida_ , darling.’ Carol corrected. She shifted her body to face Therese once more before hesitating, her eyes widening as her brain attempted to process something. She had caught sight of Rindy’s shoeless feet. ‘Rindy, why are your shoes in your hands?’

The young girl giggled before shooting off in the direction of the fountain. Her bare feet patted on the ground, almost slipping as she reached the outskirts of the water. Rindy looked her mother in the eye, held her warning stare for a few seconds, and then jumped under the spurting ribbons of water.

Laughing at the sight before her, Therese pulled her camera up to her eyeline and wound the film with a flick of her thumb. She took a series of shots of Rindy splashing, followed by a few photos of Rindy’s arms reaching out to grasp the falling patters of water. The girl noticed her at one point and sent her an exaggerated wave and a beaming smile, which Therese wholeheartedly returned. She was sure the photos would come out blurry as a result of the girl’s erratic movements, but she didn’t care. It was worth using her film for and she knew Rindy would enjoy looking over the photos at a later date.

When she lowered her Canon, however, she was greeted by Carol’s displeased expression. Her nostrils had flared, and her eyes were as cold as steel.

‘Don’t encourage our daughter, Therese.’

Therese smiled sheepishly. ‘ _Our_ daughter? I’ve never heard you say that before.’

The corners of Carol’s lips twitched upwards, but only briefly. The moment had been interrupted by Rindy’s excited, albeit soggy, return.

‘Mommy, did you see me?’

Carol sighed and rubbed her forehead. ‘Yes. How could I not see you? But you’re not to do that again, do you understand? We don’t have any dry clothes.’

The girl shuffled her feet and nodded her head solemnly.

‘Actually I, uh, brought a towel just in case.’ Therese muttered absentmindedly as she tugged a hand towel from her handbag. Carol looked at her incredulously, as if she’d pulled out a rabbit from a magician’s hat, or something equally as puzzling.

‘I used to be a messy kid, too.’ She explained warmly, her eyes full of nostalgia, dipping in and out of the past. ‘I loved to play outdoors at any opportunity.’  

Bending down, Therese wrapped Rindy in the towel and began to dry her hair and the damp patches on her floral dress. It wasn’t soaked through, thankfully, and would dry out once they had walked about in the sun for a while. So, after she had done as much as she could, she wrung the towel out and carried it over her handbag.

Then the three of them wandered around the park, enjoying the sunshine and the beginnings of Spring. Rindy held Therese’s hand, pulling her along and pointing out various birds that were hunting out worms or nesting material for the coming months.  Therese tried her best to name the species, but Rindy didn’t much care. She enjoyed the way the birds tapped their feet and ruffled their feathers more than their names.

Eventually, once they were all spent of energy, they headed back into the city and stopped off in a glaringly tacky diner that had piqued Rindy’s interest. The girl ran to the counter immediately and jumped up and down on her tiptoes to try and read the milkshake menu, with the assistance of Carol. As they both took their time debating between the array of different flavours, Therese saved them a spot in a secluded booth. The padded chairs were pastel pink with white stripes and the table was blue. Carol would hate it, she thought, smiling to herself as her fingers drummed on the metal surface of the table. She stared out of the large window beside her, allowing the plain faces of strangers to wash over her as she reflected on the day.

Her muscles felt loose, her head felt free, and her cheeks were aching from hours’ worth of smiling. She thought of Europe – of France in the Spring, of the old beauty of Venice – and wondered what those places would look like outside of photos and second-hand stories. But, most of all, she thought of her family.

Time spent with Rindy and Carol was always time well spent. It was her happy place and her solace; her way to unwind from the hardships and stress of work and life. And what was it Carol had said?

_‘Our daughter_.’

Their daughter.

Rindy felt safe enough to be with her, to hold her hand, to tell her about her day. Their relationship was maternal and familial in its own unique way. And Therese adored it.

She closed her eyes as the glare of the sun glazed over her face and breathed in, deeply.

But the air suddenly felt off. Her content state of mind was blanketed by something unexplainable yet entirely familiar. It began with an odd suffocating feeling, much like being watched. Therese opened up her other senses to the feeling, breathing in deeply once more. She caught the scent of cheap cologne; it smelt of the past, of dry paint in her old apartment, of failure and sadness and loneliness. And, all of a sudden, she knew in the pit of her stomach who she had felt around her.

Her head turned painfully slowly and, as if he had felt it to, her eyes met those of a man she hadn’t seen in a year.

Richard.

He was stood directly beside her table, his hand clasped in another woman’s. She was blonde, young, and wore a set of black prescription glasses.

His mouth dropped open, his eyebrows furrowed together, and his spare hand began to flex uncomfortably. The man’s hands always did get clammy when he was nervous, Therese remembered.

‘Richard.’ She said plainly, almost dumbly. Even after a year without seeing him, she had nothing to say to him; nothing that mattered. In fact, she had barely thought of him, not even in the presence of their mutual friends.

‘Therese.’

His teeth clenched and his shoulders rolled back, as if he was physically preparing himself for the conversation. The woman beside him, after noticing the tension, whispered something quickly into his ear before making a beeline for the furthest end of the diner. Therese followed her with her eyes as she looked for an empty table and wondered if the woman was truly happy with Richard or just settling.

‘How have you been?’ She asked, not meeting his eyes.

‘Just fine.’

There was a lengthened pause. They dared to look at each other once more and Richard cleared his throat.

‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’

What an unimportant question to ask, she thought, though it triggered her mind to reflect on their brief meeting by the river a year ago. Richard had handed her a box of her belongings; there wasn’t much, and none of it had really meant anything to her, not after Carol had left. She remembered telling him over the phone that he could keep whatever was left, but he insisted that he returned it to her. And she knew, when she saw him, why he had been so adamant.

One look at her crumbling face, her darkened eyes, her drooping lips, and he knew that he was right. Right about Carol. Right about their relationship. And the man took pleasure in it.

> _‘I told you, didn’t I? That things would end up this way.’_
> 
> _She hadn’t the strength to respond. Instead, she focused her attention on the gentle ripples of the river and shoved her hands deep within her coat pockets, searching for something to grab hold of. The ache in her chest seemed to come alive again, shimmering beneath her skin like the water._
> 
> _‘She used you. That’s what people like her do.’ Richard continued, a sadistic sort of smirk pulling at his lips._
> 
> _‘She didn’t use me.’ She bit back, though she wondered why she was defending her. The woman hadn’t returned her calls. She probably didn’t think of her._
> 
> _‘Think whatever you want to, Terry. You know I’m right.’_
> 
> _And with that, he walked away, leaving her with a box of possessions that hadn’t felt like hers._
> 
> _On her way back to her apartment, she had slipped behind an alleyway and thrown the entire box in a waste bin. She didn’t need it. She refused to be a person who clung onto things or people or a false sense of identity. She was different, growing, learning to be something brand new._
> 
> _And Richard had faded out of existence, floating downstream like driftwood._

‘I see you’ve got a new friend.’ She said, forcing a polite smile. Deep down, she was happy for him. Despite how bad he had been to her, and how infuriatingly selfish, she wanted him to be happy.

‘Yeah, she’s swell.’ Richard puffed his chest out slightly and smiled to himself. ‘You here alone?’

There was pity in his eyes, but it faded in an instant as he caught sight of Carol carrying a tray of milkshakes back to the table and Rindy walking alongside her. He looked both shocked and disgusted.

‘I can’t believe this - you.’ He muttered, shaking his head. He moved from foot to foot and pushed his fringe back with one hand, tutting as he did.

Carol caught sight of him and flashed Therese a worried look. She ushered Rindy into the chair opposite Therese and followed her quickly, ensuring the girl was as far away from Richard as possible.

‘Hello, Richard. Is everything all right?’

But he either didn’t hear her or didn’t want to.

‘Richard, I-’ Therese began, but was cut off by a finger pointing at her.

‘You mean to say that you’re still seeing her? After everything she put you through, after she _used_ you? She’s deranged, Therese. She isn’t right in the head.’ His voice boomed out into the restaurant.

The murmurings of conversations and laughter dimmed until all that could be heard was the occasional clatter of cutlery coming from the kitchen.

Therese’s mouth opened and closed in shock. In the corner of her eye, she could see shame and embarrassment flash in Carol’s face. But the woman focused her attention on her daughter’s wellbeing; she stroked a thumb, back and forth, across the girl’s knuckles.

‘And with the _kid_ here?’

His voice was quieter now, but the anger still surged inside of him, threatening to burst into flames again at any moment.

‘Leave.’ Therese said in a hushed tone.

Richard didn’t move.

‘You have no right.’ She continued. ‘You have no say in this and you’re frightening Rindy. So, please leave.’

The girl was in the corner, her hands wringing together in her lap. The milkshake she had been so excited about had been left alone on the table. The whipped cream on top was beginning to drip down the glass and pool by the stem.

‘Inverts like you disgust me.’ He spat.

In an instant, Carol rose from her seat to confront him, but he jumped away quickly.

Therese thought she saw shame or regret in the crease of his forehead, but she didn’t have time to look closer. In a rush of panicked movement, his girlfriend had returned from the other side of the room, grabbed him by the elbow, and dragged him out of the dinner in embarrassment.

There was a beat of nothing, and then a man close by let out a rowdy cheer. And then, as if nothing had happened at all, the atmosphere of the restaurant resumed.

But Therese’s chest felt hollow all of a sudden, and she worried for Rindy and what the girl might think of her. It was easy to forget, in the midst of her happiness, that the world wasn’t always on the same page as people like her and Carol.

And she was all too aware how easy it was for young people and children to get caught in the crossfires of it all.

‘D’you want some of my shake, Tez?’ Rindy pushed her glass towards Therese nervously, her eyes holding the sort of empathy that was beyond her years.

She mustered a smile and pushed the glass back. ‘You drink it. It’s chocolate – your favourite.’

The girl began to sip the drink through the straw. Therese watched her, feigning a smile still, and ignoring the burning of Carol’s gaze and the sick feeling in her stomach.

*********************************************

‘Are you sure you’re all right, Therese?’ Carol asked casually as they stood side-by-side in the kitchen, washing up dishes. Rindy was in her bedroom, playing with her stuffed toys on the floor.

Therese wiped the back of her foamy hand on her forehead and released a long breath through her pursed lips. She looked at Carol with her eyebrows upturned, wobbling slightly.

‘Richard was going to take me to Europe in March last year.’

‘I remember.’ Carol said, confusion spreading across her face.

‘But I didn’t go because, well… You happened. And I couldn’t bear the thought of spending time alone with him, anyway.’

Carol laughed as she placed another plate on the drying rack. ‘Are you going to tell me you can’t bear the thought of spending time alone in Europe with me, too?’ She joked.

Therese nudged her in the side with an elbow but smiled slightly. ‘No. That’s the thing. My body and my heart know what I want, they know what feels right and what doesn’t. And I want you – I love you - and I want to be with you-’

‘Well that’s a relief. Though, we have been together for almost a year now.’

She shot Carol a warning sideways glance.

‘Sorry.’ Carol pretended to zip her mouth shut. Then, she placed the tea towel on the counter and pulled Therese towards her by the hips. ‘Tell me what’s wrong, darling.’

Therese reached up to cup Carol’s face with one hand and sighed at the contact. She looked deep into her grey eyes, searching for the right words.  ‘I forget that the world thinks it’s wrong sometimes. Not everyone feels how we do. And I worry - I’m scared - that Rindy will think it’s wrong, no matter how right it feels to me. To us.’

Carol’s eyelids shut slowly, as if she felt Therese’s pain, and her smile vanished. But she leant into her palm ever so slightly; an act of reassurance, as if to say, ‘ _you’re not alone, I hold those worries, too’_.

‘She heard him call me an invert, she’s seen and heard Harge say some awful things, too… Carol, what if she listens to them? What if she grows to hate me?’ Tears began to fall effortlessly down her face, dripping onto the collar of her white shirt. And Carol pulled her closer, rocking her side to side, kissing the wet trails that painted her cheeks.

‘She adores you,’ she whispered in between kissing her. ‘ _She adores you_.’

The two of them stayed in each other’s arms, their lips locked, until they heard the soft creak of the kitchen door opening. They attempted to break apart, but they weren’t quick enough. They had been seen.

Rindy entered the room, cuddling a soft bear close to her chest, with a guilty look on her face. Timidly, she approached Therese and clasped her arms around her legs. The girl hugged her tightly, as if she were trying to promise something or offer reassurance. When Therese looked down, she could see that the girl had been crying, too.

She stroked her bobbed, brown hair and bent down to her eye level. Carol joined her, a look of worry swimming in the shimmer of her eyes.

‘I don’t hate you’ Rindy whispered.

‘Of course you don’t hate Therese, sweetheart. And she knows that.’ Carol said, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and squeezing gently. She looked to Therese briefly before continuing. ‘It’s difficult for you to understand.’

‘No.’ The girl shook her head vigorously. ‘I understand, Mommy.’

Therese bit her lip and the two of them waited for the girl to elaborate.

‘I hear Daddy… And Grandma… They sound like the mean man from earlier. They call you things. I don’t know why.’

Carol released a heavy, weighted breath and tried to ignore thinking about the comments any further. ‘Darling, sometimes people-’

‘Why do they?’

‘Call us names?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well…’ Carol brushed a lock of hair behind Rindy’s ear and pinched her cheek, eliciting a giggle from her. ‘Those people don’t understand why I like to spend time with Therese and not… other people.’

The young girl nodded slowly but frowned as if she were annoyed.

‘Mommy, I’m seven.’

‘I know you are, my big girl.’

‘I’m not a baby. I know that you love each other.’

Carol’s eyes widened in shock, and Therese abruptly stood up from the floor as if she had been burnt. Both Carol and Therese were speechless, unable to form coherent sentences or untangle what Rindy had uttered.

Did she really know? Was a seven-year-old really old enough to comprehend the situation at hand?

‘You love each other.’ She repeated.

Still, they remained silent. Rindy giggled, as if she thought they were playing a game with her.

‘I’ve seen you kiss. She said, making a grimacing face. ‘And hold hands. And you love each other like Cinderella and Prince Charming.’

Carol joined Therese at a normal height and placed an arm on her elbow to steady herself.

‘Oh?’ Was all Therese could say amid her shock.

Where did they go from here? What did they say to the girl? She clearly knew more than she had let on in the past year, and they had foolishly thought they had been adequate at keeping their relationship a secret. But the girl was smart, perceptive, and intuitive. Of course she had known, and of course she didn’t care in the slightest.

Therese suddenly felt foolish – guilty, almost – about expecting the worst from Rindy. She was kind and tender hearted. She couldn’t hate anyone even if she tried.

‘Rindy, darling-’ Carol started, but she struggled to find the right words. She didn’t know how to finish her sentence. ‘So long as you know we both love you very much.’

Rindy gave them both a beaming smile and nodded enthusiastically. ‘I love you both, too, Momma.’

And with that, she ran in search of her room again; her previous tears had been forgotten about, and the bound in her step was back. The kitchen door blew shut behind her and silence spilled into the room once more.

Carol clutched onto Therese’s arm tighter than before, her eyebrows creasing in confusion.

‘... Which one of us is Prince Charming?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely had to research what flowers grow in North America in early Spring, because I forget that not everywhere has an abundance of daffodils like Britain does. We typically hand them out as Mother's Day presents (our Mother's Day is always in March), but I just enjoy looking at them. That's one thing to be grateful for in March (yes, I'm currently in denial that Brexit is a thing that's happening... God help us all). 😊
> 
> Also, I had almost forgotten that Richard was a character that existed in part one of this story. I always meant to introduce him, but it would keep slipping my mind. So, I finally did it!
> 
> Anyway, I'm feeling kinda out-of-sorts today, but I'm okay. How are you all doing? Let me know! 
> 
> Claire


	7. A Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started off with one idea and it turned into seven thousand. I tried to compress it into 5000 words, but honestly there was a lot to tackle and it was perhaps too big of a task for one chapter. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy!

 

The voices in the room overlapped like a hive of bees, buzzing around her ears, merging into one wave of noise that floated gently away. Therese stilled herself and closed her eyes. The batch of freshly developed photographs in her hands – prints of a recent art exhibition – felt so insignificant in comparison to the images flashing in her mind. They stretched themselves out ahead of her like newly paved footpaths, enticing her to implore them further. She imagined following Carol’s footsteps, reaching for her hand, catching her breath as she forced her muscles to keep up. But the woman was always out of reach or brushing her aside; a ghost who just so happened to share the same space. She could only grasp the thought of her.

She registered a noise – a ripple in the air – and then something hit her head. Therese muffled a noise of shock and blushed, suddenly aware that she’d been daydreaming in yet another editorial meeting. She bent down to pick up the object that had struck her: a pen lid. From the corner of her eye, she saw a grinning Dannie. He wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly and bit his lower lip to supress a laugh. The man was twirling the pen in his hand, and she wondered how long she’d be in her own bubble before he had noticed.

Martin Foxe called her to the table and collected the photographs in her hand, praising her for the work and her quick turnaround. Then, she moved to stand next to Dannie and subtly slipped the pen lid back into his hand.

‘What was that for?’ She whispered harshly, her eyes glaring at her friend’s smirking lips.

‘Y’know, the more you look like a lovesick puppy, the more people are gonna start asking why.’

The heat beneath Therese’s cheeks doubled. She looked to the floor to conceal the redness.

Had it really been that obvious?

She shook her head slightly; an attempt to shift away the longing thoughts and the lingering feelings of sadness. Carol had been away for almost seven days, now, and she was missing her more than she thought she would.

After an unexpected phone call from Carol’s sister, Elaine, her lover had driven off down to Norfolk, Virginia to spend a couple of weeks in their household. Her sister had damaged her leg in a fall and therefore was unable to look after herself properly, never mind her three young children. To make matters worse, Elaine’s husband was away on month-long business trip out of town. So, Carol had agreed to visit for as long as her sister needed her, much to Therese’s disappointment.

Although Therese knew she was being silly in protesting the trip, she couldn’t help but feel blue at the prospect of Carol leaving. It wasn’t so much the thought of being alone, or the selfishness of wanting Carol’s company, but rather the acknowledgement that – to Carol’s family – she didn’t exist. Whereas her heterosexual friends were fully integrated with their partner’s parents and siblings, Therese lay on the outskirts; someone that only came up in passing in few conversations. Of course, she knew that was how it had to be, but it still made her feel small and unseen. Unimportant.

Because of her conflicted feelings, the days leading up to Carol’s departure had been full of tension and little spats. Therese couldn’t help but pry, and she couldn’t stop the anxious feeling in her stomach that felt a lot like a sensation she had experienced in motel room in Chicago many months ago.

> _Carol flipped the locks on her suitcase, lay it flat on the bed and began to pack it with clothes, underwear and other necessities._
> 
> _‘Do you have to go for two weeks?’ Therese asked quietly as she sat down on the other side of the bed, her eyes betraying her sadness._
> 
> _‘Therese, the poor woman has a broken leg.’_
> 
> _‘But, you’re not even that clo-’_
> 
> _‘Do you think I want to go skirting off down to Virginia for two weeks?’ Carol cried suddenly, slamming the lid of her suitcase shut. ‘Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, Therese.’_
> 
> _‘What if I came-’_
> 
> _An open palm flew up in front of her to stop her mid-sentence._
> 
> _‘You can’t.’ Carol said quietly._
> 
> _And with that, Carol lifted up her suitcase, walked out, and dropped it into the apartment hallway, ready for her drive early the next morning. She flunked herself against the wall and rifled her hand through a small bowl on the side table, searching for a cigarette. Therese approached her after she had lit the roll and kissed her cheek in a way of an apology._
> 
> _Carol raised her eyebrows in surprise but smiled warmly, her eyes glazing over._
> 
> _‘I’m sorry, Carol, for how I’ve been. I just...’ She said whilst closing her eyes and letting Carol pull her towards with one hand. ‘We haven’t spent this much time apart since…’_
> 
> _‘I know.’ Carol said._
> 
> _‘What if-’_
> 
> _A finger pressed to her lips, quietening her._
> 
> _‘None of that. I’m coming back. And I shall miss you terribly – you know that, darling.’_
> 
> _She nodded and moved her head closer, brushing her lips against Carol’s cheek. ‘Will you call me every night?’_
> 
> _Carol pushed her back, only to pull her forward again. Their lips met. And Therese tried to keep her mind steady, open, so that she could hold onto every second of the memory and replay it in the weeks to come. But as Carol bit down on her lower lip, her mind went blank, her body weak, and her head could only clutch the feeling of being in the present with her._
> 
> _‘I promise to call you every night.’_

Abruptly, Martin had called the meeting to its end with a succinct, loud clap of his hands. Therese’s body suddenly flinched, registering the noise, and she shuffled out of the meeting room with Dannie beside her.

‘Only a few more days, eh?’ He joked.

There was a permanent countdown in her head, ticking by like an alarm clock, and she willed it to speed up.

‘Seven days, actually.’ She said almost automatically, and then realised how silly it must have sounded. Her words were those of a pining child.

‘Jeez, Therese,’ Dannie laughed, ‘I think you’ll survive.’

But Therese remained quiet. Her eyes were fixed, staring intently at her shoes, and Dannie could sense something was off with her. So, in one swift movement, he wrapped an arm across her shoulders and led her out of the building. ‘C’mon, I’ll buy you dinner. How does that sound?’

Despite the thoughts that weighed her down, she smiled. Dannie’s unrivalled loyalty always made her feel better. ‘So long as there’s beer.’

The two friends found themselves in a burger joint a few blocks down from _The Times_. It wasn’t the sort of place she and Carol would frequent together, but somehow that made it the perfect place to be. Therese wouldn’t be able to envision Carol sat at the bar or in the clunky metal seat next to her. She wouldn’t be able to imagine the scent of her perfume or the feel of her fur coat.

Their burger and fries arrived promptly, served in round red trays, along with four bottles of lager. It was the perfect sort of food for cheering her up.

‘So, tell me what’s up.’ Dannie said. ‘You’re not yourself.’

‘It’s nothing, really, I’m probably just-’

Dannie made a groaning noise whilst chewing a large bite of his burger. He washed it down with a glug of his beer, then wiped his hands on a napkin.

‘Therese, if it was nothing you wouldn’t be upset.’

She shot him a sad smile. He always did have the ability to see right through her and there was no point in downplaying what she was feeling, she thought. Her emotions would spill over eventually.

‘Carol promised she’d ring me every evening – just for a while - and she did, to start... But I haven’t heard from her in two days. It’s unlike her.’

Dannie frowned, opened another beer bottle, and slid it over to Therese. She grabbed it in one hand and took a few long sips, shocking Dannie slightly.

‘Nothing at all?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Have you tried calling her?’

‘Yes, multiple times, but no one picked up.’ She said monotonously. ‘I’m worried something’s wrong, or she’s hurt or something. I don’t know.’

He gave her a sympathetic look and wrung his hands together.

‘I’m sure she’s okay, Therese. What about sending a letter?’

‘I, uh-’ Therese rubbed her forehead and sighed. She hadn’t been getting much sleep and she felt emotionally drained. Living in the apartment alone, without Carol or Rindy, was decidedly lonely, and she wondered how she ever managed life without them.

‘I can’t be… _honest_ in writing.’ She continued. 'Not when her sister's there. She doesn't know about me.' 

The letter she’d written to Carol in the December of 1951, that she had left wedged between the pages of a book, fluttered into her memory. Florence had found it, read it, and sent it to Harge and the private detective investigating them. It had been a beautiful letter, written without filter or shame. It couldn’t be erased. It was tangible; evidence for a case. And, as a result, it was used against her and Carol.

Although there wasn’t much to lose now, Therese didn’t want to compromise what little attachment Carol had with her sister and her sister’s children. She couldn’t write a letter and know, for sure, if it would be read by Carol’s eyes only.

Dannie seemed to register what she had meant and bowed his head solemnly. ‘Sorry, I forget sometimes.’

‘Me too.’ She murmured, releasing a breathy laugh that communicated how tired she really felt. ‘I wonder… I wonder when - _if_ \- the world will ever let us live in the open. I’m tired of hiding. I'm tired of feeling unseen.’

‘Well,’ Dannie said, clinking his beer bottle with Therese’s, ‘you needn’t hide with me. I see you.’

***************************

Elaine hobbled out of the bathroom, her bad leg swinging stiffly beside her wooden crutch. Once she reached her mattress, she collapsed down and cradled the white cast, wincing. Then, in a huff, she flunked out on her back and laughed, her head tilted so she could catch Carol’s eye.

‘What do you think about pushing me around in a wheelchair?’

‘Not a chance.’ Carol smirked as she stumped the remainders of her cigarette into an ashtray on Elaine’s vanity. ‘I’m too young to be your carer.’

‘And I’m too old to listen to you.’

The two of them chuckled slightly and then, as it had done for the past few evenings, the house fell silent. It was as if they were each only half present. There was always a barrier in the space between them, separating them from reaching the sort of closeness most sisters had.

Of course, they had been close once upon a time. In fact, as children Carol and Elaine had been inseparable; on weekends, they’d play outdoors and tease their parents together. They’d even run around the neighbourhood playing pranks on unsuspecting neighbours, knocking on their front doors before running away and hiding behind a tree or a garage.

Carol’s lip twitched. Most adults who had known them had thought of them as twins for much of their pre-teen years, and Carol’s heart panged at the loss of that long-forgotten connection. The rope between them was fraying, breaking, indistinguishable.

After all, as they grew older, their differences began to surface. Carol was spontaneous: reckless and restless. She always went in search of something new or better, and she’d swerve around anyone who tried to claim she should settle. Elaine, on the other hand, was much more conservative. The woman was calm, orderly, and thrived off the traditional “role” of being a woman. Whereas Carol dreamed of travelling amongst other things, Elaine only dreamed of marriage and children.

Even when they both shared their own separate families and marriages, they still stayed fundamentally different, held apart at an arm’s length.

But it was unfair to suggest that it was entirely Elaine’s fault for being different, though, Carol thought. Part of the reason they were so divided was, of course, because of Carol’s lingering secret. She was a lesbian. She was different.

Although she had tried to supress it for most of her teenage and married life, it still remained; she was still aware of it. And, like a wall of smoke, it had kept herself and Elaine disconnected, detached.

Now that she embraced that part of herself wholeheartedly, the smoke had turned to glass. It was solid, unmoving, and although she could see Elaine through the other side, she knew that she could be a threat.

‘The kids get to sleep all right?’ Elaine asked, giving Carol a searching look.

Carol cleared her throat and blinked rapidly, throwing herself out of her thoughts. ‘Yes. Yes, they went to sleep just fine. Kyle tried to put up a fuss, but I got through to him in the end.’

‘Just wait until Rindy’s in the double-digits. They become absolute nightmares.’

She couldn’t imagine Rindy as anything other than her small, sweet child. The girl was seven years old and innocent and loving, still. She hoped she’d at least still stay loving as she grew older, if nothing else. And happy, too.

‘Well, I best be off to bed, too.’ Carol said, catching a quick glance of the time on her wristwatch.

But Elaine didn’t listen.

‘Do you remember that summer, years and years ago, in France?’

Carol chuckled and brushed a hand through her hair. ‘Yes, that small, rackety cottage in Giverny, near Monet’s house. How could I forget?’

Elaine propped her head up on a pillow and patted the bed next to her good leg, inviting Carol to sit down. She walked apprehensively towards her, before clambering on and lying back on the bed. They both stared up at the ceiling for a moment, awkward in the closeness of their company.

‘We shared that tiny room. You hated the spiders and moths that crept in at night, so we shared a bed.’ Elaine recalled, smiling fondly.

‘Ah, yes. My one weakness as a child. Large moths.’ Carol joked. ‘Father was sick of my screaming.’

‘Yes, I remember. I stayed up with you and used the candlelight to make hand puppet shadows on the wall to distract you.’

‘You were always a good big sister. And an even better puppeteer.’ She mumbled, suddenly feeling an odd need to cry.

‘Was I?’

They fell back into a thick silence, and Carol’s hands flexed in nervousness. She should have been calling Therese by now, but she felt compelled to stay beside her sister. The moment felt like it would grow and grow from a seed into something much bigger: a tree, a pathway, a new beginning. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest until all she could feel was her blood rushing through her, rendering her completely still.

The tears prickled and then flowed. She turned her head to conceal them, but Elaine had seen.

A hand slid on top of hers and squeezed gentle.

‘Tell me.’ Elaine instructed.

‘Tell you what?’ Carol whispered, sniffing her nose. She felt like a young girl again, confiding in her older sister, reaching out to her for comfort. But it felt difficult to open up. The wall had been standing for too long.

‘Whatever it is that you’ve been hiding, Carol.’

She blew a shaky breath out between her pursed lips. An urge to lie, to say it was Harge, or something else, surfaced in her mind. But she realised that Elaine would see through it, as she had seen through her lies as a child. And, besides, she must have had her suspicions that something wasn’t quite right when she had heard of the divorce, the trial and the custodial situation with Harge.

‘I can’t. You won’t look at me the same.’

A hand lightly pinched her chin and tilted her head to the left. Carol shifted so that she was lying on her side, face-to-face with her sister. When was the last time she had truly looked Elaine in the eyes without flinching? Without the urge to look away?

‘I look at you and see my baby sister,’ she said, ‘and that’s all I will ever see.’

A few more tears fell on their own accord. How was she meant to explain the past few years, never mind over thirty years of questioning and confusion? And would Elaine understand? Her inherent need to run – to block herself off and strike out – consumed her. But she was too tired to put up the sort of fight she would have done years ago. Carol’s throat closed up and she swallowed her courage.

Elaine frowned in concern and reached for her hand again.

‘Who have you been calling these past few nights? The house might be big, but the walls aren’t thick.’

Carol closed her eyes and saw Therese. Her lover was much stronger than herself. And she wondered how Therese must have felt, knowing she would be spending time with family that didn’t even know of her existence. Suddenly, she had known why Therese had been so upset to see her leave. Not because she thought Carol might not come back, like the last time they had separated, but rather because she thought Carol was ashamed of her.

She knew, of course, the dangers of being open with even one’s families. But Therese didn’t have family, or at least any that she was still in contact with.

And what would Therese do if she were in a similar situation? Therese was brave, courageous, and perhaps prouder, now, than she had ever been in regards to her sexuality. The choice to tell Elaine was hers alone, and yet she felt the sudden realisation that if she didn’t tell her, the separation between them would only grow.

Carol lived with Therese. She parented Rindy with her. They slept together, shared their troubles together. Half of her life was with Therese. And if Elaine didn’t know of her, Elaine couldn’t truly ever know Carol.

She knew that the bridge between herself and her sister could only be mended with honesty. And if that honestly crumbled the foundations they stood on, at least she could know that she tried. A risk, she thought, was worth taking if there was something to save.

‘Therese. I’ve been calling Therese – I live with her.’ She choked out.

Elaine’s brow creased, and her eyes flitted across Carol’s face:  Carol’s shimmering eyes, the wobble in her lip. And after a few moments, what looked like realisation began to flicker like a flame over her features. But Carol could not distinguish whether her reaction was good or bad or something else entirely.

‘You don’t mean to say you’re… Do you?’ Elaine said, struggling to find the right words.

‘Yes. Therese and I are together. We have been for well over a year.’

The hand on top of Carol’s pulled away sharply, painfully. Her heart seemed to shrivel, along with her lungs, as she watched her sister’s face morph from shock into disgust. Or was it disappointment?

‘No.’ She said firmly.

‘Yes, Elaine.’

But it seemed pointless to convince her. The look in her eyes seemed final. The roots of her ignorance and upheld values were deep, embedded somewhere Carol’s words couldn’t reach. And Carol scolded herself for believing that her sister might have been understanding or loving, or tolerant at the very least.

Her sister turned her face to the ceiling and their eye contact was broken.

‘You’re not to use the phone again. I won’t allow it with my children here.’

‘You can’t stop me from calling her, Elaine.’ Carol said, faltering slightly before continuing. ‘I love her.’

Her sister let out a breathy, incredulous laugh.

‘A woman cannot love another woman.’

‘Well, I do.’ Carol snapped. She was shaking, but her voice was steady. ‘And you cannot change my mind or my nature.’

Elaine looked taken aback – hurt, almost. Her eyes flashed with anger for a moment.

‘Get out.’ She commanded, gesturing her hand to the door.

Carol didn’t respond. Instead, she flung her now-heavy legs over the side of the bed and retreated to the guest bedroom. The drum of her heart felt slower and softer than it had done in a long while. As she passed the phone, she hesitated slightly, and wished that Therese could somehow be waiting for her in the bed that wasn’t hers. She wished to be held, to be loved, to be understood.

*****************************

The next day seemed to drag on and on. Carol had taken the children to school, returned back to her sister’s estate, and then spent the rest of the afternoon in unbearable silence. She had dutifully dressed her sister and helped her around the house, making dinner and tea when asked. But Elaine hadn’t looked at her. Elaine hadn’t thanked her. She didn’t even smile.

In an agitated spout of boredom, Carol had decided that she’d ring Therese on her lunch break despite Elaine’s words of warning. But the phone in the upper landing had gone missing in the morning. So, instead, she sat alone in the guest bedroom, looking out of the tall window and wondered if her thoughts could somehow reach Therese. She was beginning to miss her voice already.

When she had tossed and turned that night, tears still flowing from her face, she had sworn she would call her the next day. Even if it had meant leaving her sister’s side and finding a payphone.

And, so, on the Wednesday afternoon, seven days into her trip, she approached Elaine in her spacious living room wearing her engulfing red coat.

‘Going somewhere?’ Elaine asked in a disinterested sort of tone. Her eyes were scanning a magazine, with her bad leg propped up on a foot rest.

‘Yes. Where’s the nearest payphone?’

The magazine dropped to the coffee table with a _thwack_. Elaine looked at her for the first time since the Monday evening, but said nothing.

‘Well, I shall find it myself, then.’ Carol muttered, slipping on her grey leather gloves as she strutted to the front door.

‘Wait.’

‘What?’ She questioned exasperatedly.

But Elaine looked confused, as if she wasn’t quite sure why she had asked her to stay. There was a question brewing inside her, but her mouth couldn’t bring it into existence.

‘I’ll plug the phone back in if you just… Sit down. For a while.’

Carol hesitated on the spot, then made her way to the furthest armrest of the sofa. She sat down timidly and stared at the opposite end of the room. Her eyes glanced over the fireplace; photos of Elaine and her husband, Reginald, were framed upon the mantelpiece, dotted between small portraits of their three children in school uniforms. They looked happy - in love - like a picture-perfect family unit. And she wondered if Elaine would recognise the same sort of love if she saw herself, Rindy and Therese together. 

A small, shy voice broke the silence. Elaine sounded as she had done as a child; calm, reserved, unsure of herself.

‘How long have you known?’

Carol clicked her tongue.

‘Always, I suppose. Maybe only subconsciously, but it’s always been there.’

‘Even while you were with Hargess?’ Elaine asked, her words dripping with confusion.

‘Even then.’ She smiled.

Silence descended upon them both again, but Carol pushed back against it. There was nothing for her to hide, now, and no reason for her to be ashamed. The fear had gone even if the pain still remained.

‘Therese means an awful lot to me, Elaine. You might not understand it, you might not even like it, but that’s who I am. And I won’t be trying to change myself, not even for you. I’ve had enough of that.’

Elaine sighed and looked at her with tired, worried eyes.

‘I think I knew, too.’ She confessed, a look of guilt washing over her. ‘I could sense something was amiss, but I never pried. I never asked. I ignored it and let you flounder.’

‘That wasn’t – isn’t - your responsibility.’

‘But as your sister, it’s my duty.’ She stated. ‘I should have helped you, not hidden from you. I can’t bear to see you live a life of suffering.’

‘I’ll suffer if I give in, I suffer if I don’t. Don’t you see?’ Carol laughed loudly. ‘It’s better to live and be in love, to be happy – even in secret – than to live no life at all.’

‘You could get into trouble, Rindy could-’

‘Rindy loves me, Elaine, and she dotes on Therese. Don’t you dare bring her into it.’ Carol snapped.

‘Have you tried therapy?’

She resisted the urge to laugh at her sister’s naivety. ‘ _Tried_ it? Harge made me go for months. It’s a waste of time and I shan’t change myself to make others happy.’

Elaine’s lips clamped shut and she rolled her head back onto the sofa, staring absentmindedly at the swirling patterns of white paint on the ceiling.

‘Are _you_ happy?’

The words felt small and empty, swallowed by the growing space in the room. It was as if Elaine had resigned herself to the reality. The external fight was over, but Carol knew that her sister would be trying to come to terms with the prospect for a long time to come.

‘Happier than I’ve been in a very, very long time.’

Her words were as strong and real as the bricks surrounding them, and Carol knew that her sister couldn’t argue back.

‘Well, that’s something.’ Elaine mumbled. She lit a cigarette – a habit she had told Carol she was trying to break – and took a long, slow drag. ‘How about you put the kettle on, hm?’

Carol tutted but nevertheless made a start for the kitchen.

‘By the way, the phone’s in my bedside drawer.’ Elaine called out.

‘Oh, I know, darling sister. I spotted it earlier.’ Carol smirked, tapping her nose with her index finger.

‘If it didn’t hurt so damn much, I’d throw this cast at you.’

They held a glance and smiled sadly at one another. A new beginning had indeed set sail, but its course was still unknown. Carol wasn’t sure if the lingering threads of their relationship would strengthen or break, but it was something that could only become clearer with time.

‘I love you, Carol.’ Elaine said softly. ‘I don’t… understand. I worry. But I’ll try. Give me time.’

‘Don’t get too sentimental, now,’ Carol joked as she disappeared behind the kitchen door. But as she reached the sink basin, she felt both the heaviness of loss and the lightness of relief in her chest.

It felt better, she decided, to speak freely. But, oh, how it hurt.

*************************************************

The phone rang two times before Therese thrown off her duvet, clambered out of bed and hurried to pick it up. In her panic, the receiver had bounced around in her hands, almost dropping to the floor.

‘Carol?’ She asked, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Therese-’

‘You didn’t call for two nights.’

Despite the comfort of hearing her voice again, Therese’s face flushed with annoyance. She _hadn’t_ called and Therese had lost sleep over it.

‘Well, darling, I-’

‘I was worried sick. What if something had happened, or – or, I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’ Carol repeated huskily, humouring Therese.

She twirled the cord of the phone around her finger to distract her from the warm, pooling feeling in her stomach. Hearing Carol’s voice was intoxicating and smooth, like drinking a good whiskey. It took her breath away.

The drone of the line hummed in her ear for a few seconds before Carol’s voice carried back through.

‘I’m sorry, darling. I-’ She sighed. ‘I told Elaine about you and I. It caused some upset and I couldn’t call you.’

Therese’s sleepy eyes jolted awake, widening in shock. She felt foolish for how selfish she had been. ‘Are you all right, Carol?’

‘Hmm. Better now I’m speaking to you. It’ll be all right. Eventually.’

She could sense the sadness and exhaustion in her lover’s tone and the slur of her words, and she felt the pain behind them, too. Her fingers clasped tightly on the phone and she pretended it was Carol’s hand.

‘Is there anything I can do? I could talk to her, if you’d like.’ Therese said, her words spilling out of her mouth in an incoherent flurry.

If she could only speak to the woman, would she understand? Would she accept Carol?

‘No, no. Leave it be. We’ll figure things out when I’m home.’ Carol paused. ‘I miss you an awful lot.’

‘I miss you, too.’ Therese whispered into the receiver. She looked down at the pyjamas she had chosen to wear and laughed suddenly.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing, it’s just… I’ve been wearing your pyjamas. The satin navy ones with flowers. They smell like you.’

Carol chuckled in response, genuinely, and Therese felt it reverberate through her ear and into her bones. She smiled as she pictured the laugh lines around Carol’s lips and the twinkle in her eyes.

‘You’re very adorable. I love y-’

Carol’s voice cut off abruptly and was instead replaced by a muffled noise on the other end. Therese strained to listen, but it sounded as those Carol had covered the speaker with her hands. Regardless, she could make out the lowered hum of two voices. The voices weren’t raised, nor angry, but rather tepidly challenging one another, as if they were testing to see how far they could push or pull an invisible boundary.

Suddenly, after what felt like minutes, Carol’s hand released, and she could hear her clearly again.

‘Elaine’s been listening in,’ she sighed, though her intonation sounded somewhat lighter. ‘She was never good at keeping her nose out of my business.’

‘Oh.’

There was another muffled noise, louder this time, but when Carol returned there was a smile in her voice. ‘She says hello. And that she would like to visit sometime, for tea perhaps.’

Therese’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Tell her I say hello. And of course, whenever she’d like…’

They spoke briefly for a few more minutes, though it felt censored and scripted. While she could neither see nor hear her, Elaine’s presence was large enough to be sensed through the line, and Therese couldn’t help but question the woman’s intent. She didn’t know her or her character; all she had to go on were snippets Carol had told her every now and then. But Elaine wasn’t often brought up in conversation.

Therese wondered what she looked like and sounded like; how much of Carol was in her? And she tried to picture herself having tea with the woman. What would they speak of? Would she like her? Would she try and become between the two of them?

It was dizzying to think of. It was exhausting to worry about.

Later that night, she slept on Carol’s side of the bed, clutching the duvet under her chin, and hoped that Carol’s time at her sister’s would blossom into something good. God knows Carol deserved all the happiness and love she could get, Therese thought. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still remember coming out to my siblings. My twin sister was the first person I ever told and she was incredibly good about it. I was so nervous. I wrote it down on the back of a receipt and handed it to her, but she refused to open it because I was shaking and crying. (Baby lesbian Claire wasn't quite as brave as current lesbian Claire.) She hugged me tightly and, although she was a bit shocked, didn't even waver in her support. My older brother and sister were both great, too. 
> 
> So, I never had an issue coming out to my siblings. And I suppose that's the luxury of being young and living in the 21st Century. My mum, however, wasn't very supportive at all for a long while. Both of my parents still say some crappy things. 
> 
> I don't know. I think - and believe - that people can change and adapt for you if they truly love you. Anyone who loves you will overcome anything for you, no matter what. Sometimes it takes time - sometimes it's painful - but even putting the effort in can make all the difference. And, even if there is pain in being authentic, there is release, too. 
> 
> I don't ever remember feeling happy about coming out. It felt more like relief, or a step in the right direction. It almost felt like an act of self love. And I love myself a whole lot, now, and my sexuality, too. Which is nice! That's not to say that everyone *must* come out - that's just what I felt like I needed to do.
> 
> Okay, I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but it's been a tiring month and I have more feelings than I usually have. Sending out love and support and hugs to everyone who could do with it. Let me know how you all are. 🤗


	8. Baby Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been an odd sort of week - stressful and emotional and hectic - and I haven't yet responded from the comments on the previous chapter. I'll try and get on top of that soon!
> 
> Shorter chapter than recent ones, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

 

Therese bent down to fish out another print from the tray, her eyes transfixed as she saw the image slowly fade into life. The ink seeped across the white surface, tracing patterns in its wake. It was a beautiful portrait of Rindy playing underneath the fountain in Washington Square Park. The ends of her brunette hair tickled her nose as she used a pair of tongs to lift up and clip the corners of the photo to a washing line. And, as if by simply looking at the girl had made it happen, she heard the front door unlock. Quickly, she washed her hands in a bucket of soapy water and wiped her hands on a tea towel. Then, she tiptoed to the door and lay one ear flat against the wooden surface.

She could hear the animated and dynamic back-and-forth of Rindy and Carol conversing, as if they were talking about something of the utmost importance. Carol had just driven out of the city to pick her daughter up from a full day of school. Thankfully, Harge was busy with client meetings most of the week, and so they had been given the rare opportunity to have her stay for more than a few days. The corners of Therese’s mouth twitched ever so slightly as she heard the wavering pitch and excitement levels in Rindy’s voice. She seemed to be asking insistently for something, but Therese couldn’t make out what it was.

She cracked the door open slightly, ready to greet them, but was stopped by a sudden, quiet harshness in Carol’s voice. She wasn’t being severe, but there was a hint of a warning. There was a brief glimmer of sadness in her eyes, too. Therese’s body felt paralysed as she began to worry. What had happened?

Suddenly, the door to the darkroom flew open and Therese practically stumbled out. A gasp escaped her as Rindy leapt up to hug her, stalling her fall. She let out a breathy laugh and picked the girl up in her arms, holding her tightly. Rindy seemed happy enough, she thought, and so did Carol.

‘Someone’s eager to see you,’ Carol said.

‘Well, I should hope you’re eager to see me, too.’ Therese chided, smiling at how Rindy’s arms were now wrapped around her neck, holding onto her as if she didn’t want to let go.

Carol placed a lingering kiss on Therese’s cheek that sent ripples through her insides. She breathed in her perfume and held her breathe. Smelling her perfume always felt like smelling it for the first time.

‘Always, darling. And you -’ Carol steeled her eyes and pointed at Rindy, though her lips were toying with a smile – ‘behave for Therese, all right? No more silliness.’

With that, Carol then flashed them both a grin and wandered off into the kitchen to begin prepping their dinner.

‘Silliness?’ Therese asked as she walked them both into the living room. The girl didn’t meet her eye. ‘Were you misbehaving at school?’

Rindy clambered out of her arms, set her sights on a wooden box filled with some of her toys, and immediately ran to the far corner of the room. It was as if she hadn’t heard her. She lifted the heavy lid with a huff, stuck her arms in and began riffling through her possessions. Therese, accepting the lack of acknowledgement, sat perched on the corner of a sofa cushion and watched in amusement. Stuffed animals, bricks and wooden cars began flying out of the box, scattering across the carpet and rug. Rindy was obviously in search of something particular. But Therese couldn’t help but grimace nervously at the mess that was being created; Carol hated an untidy living space.

Abruptly, Rindy raised her arms high above her head in triumph, waving them side to side. In her hands she was cradling a doll, dressed in a pink and white frilly dress. It looked very similar to the sort of dolls Therese used to sell at Frankenburg’s all those months ago, though those memories felt as though they belonged to someone else. She couldn’t remember the name of the doll or the make now. She could barely remember the faces of those she used to work with.

‘I found her!’ Rindy cried proudly. ‘Ha! I’m going to show Mommy.’

Therese sat up quickly but cautiously, surveying the room around her. She didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or push any of Rindy’s buttons, but she knew Carol would only get exasperated with the mess around them.

‘Um, how about you tidy away your toys first?’

Dropping her arms limply, Rindy frowned at her in slight confusion. She wasn’t used to Therese mothering her in the ways Carol did. Even so, the young girl obediently placed the doll on the floor and silently began to chuck various toys back into the wooden chest. Therese knelt beside her and helped her shut the lid back down safely, giving Rindy a gentle smile of thanks as she did so.

‘Why do you want to show Mommy your doll?’ She asked quietly, still unsure about the undertones of the situation happening around her. There was something that had been brushed underneath the surface, swept under the carpet by Carol.

Rindy let out an almighty sigh, as if the weight of the world was weighing her down. ‘To show Mommy that I _can_ look after a baby.’

‘I’m sure you can, Rindy…’ Therese said, frowning in an amused sort of confusion. It wasn’t lost on her that Rindy was now holding the doll by its neck, rather than its hand. ‘I- is there any reason why you need to show her that?’

One of her hands reached out to brush a strand of Rindy’s hair behind her ear. The girl looked at her searchingly, determining whether or not she could tell Therese what was on her mind.

‘Mommy told me not to talk about it.’

‘All right then, maybe you shouldn’t-’

‘Gwen at school has a new baby brother, I got to hold him and he’s so small!’ Rindy said quickly, almost incoherently, in one breath. Then, she clasped her hands over her mouth as if it were a massive secret. Therese laughed, though her eyebrows remained furrowed together.

A knot was tightening in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where the conversation was heading. ‘Were you jealous?’

Rindy nodded vigorously. But before she could ask more, Rindy had stomped off into the kitchen, the doll dragging along the floor as she went. Therese followed anxiously and took a deep breath, anticipating the conversation they were likely about to navigate.

‘Mommy! I found Shelly! I can practice now for when we have one.’

Carol wiped a hand across forehead and brushed her hair back in one motion. She shot Therese an apologetic look before bending down to meet Rindy’s eyes. One of her hands stroked the girl’s cheek, pinching slightly to make Rindy giggle.

‘I’m not giving you a baby brother or sister, sweat pea.’

‘I don’t want a baby brother.’ Rindy said with a hint of disgust. ‘I want a sister.’

A gasp of mock-surprise escaped Carol’s mouth as she rolled her eyes and knocked her forehead with the palm of her hand. ‘Of course, how could I forget? No boys allowed.’

‘Yes! But – look – I can practice on Shelly.’ She held up the doll in front of Carol’s face and waved it around, as if seeing it closer would somehow be the only persuasion her mother needed.

Feeling more and more awkward by the minute, Therese busied herself with chopping and preparing vegetables on the kitchen counter.

‘Darling, that’s enough now.’ Carol warned, her voice now harsher than before. ‘Please.’

There was a lengthened pause. Suddenly, the noise of chopping carrots seemed too loud, as if it might disturb the balance. Therese placed down the knife and looked down as she felt a small, balled-up fist tug at the fabric of her grey slacks. Rindy’s big, brown eyes were shimmering under the bright white kitchen lights. Her lower lip wobbled.

‘Tez?’ She asked helplessly, as if she thought perhaps Therese could convince her mother. ‘Will you get me a sister?’

‘I – um.’ Therese could feel Carol avoiding her silent plea for help. No matter how hard she stared, the woman wouldn’t look back at her. ‘I… can’t, Rindy.’

And suddenly it dawned upon her, only as she uttered the words, that she couldn’t. She couldn’t have children because she was with Carol. She couldn’t have children because she wasn’t heterosexual. Although it hadn’t been a topic that she’d explored in great depth or willingness, Therese had never truly comprehended the reality of it. As she watched Carol hide her eyes behind a hand, and Rindy fight tears by her feet, she felt a loss of something. It didn’t hurt, nor did it upset her, but it left her feeling speechless. Empty, almost. It altered the future that was expected of her.

As much as she had no clue, even from an early age, what that future would entail, she always assumed having a child would be part of it. Wouldn’t it? That’s what the world had told her. That’s what her mother had told her.

She remembered the look of joy and apprehension in her mother’s face as she passed over her baby half-brother. Therese was only eight at the time – similar in age to Rindy – and had never held a baby before. It felt odd, and she was worried she was doing it wrong, but her brother hadn’t cried. He even looked at her with his open, curious blue eyes. And she felt something that felt a little bit like love. It was fleeting. There was anger and sadness within her, but she knew it hadn’t been caused by the innocent baby in her arms.

She hadn’t seen him more than once or twice after that.

The doll dropped to the floor, snapping Therese out of her thoughts. Rindy rushed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. A flunking noise – she suspected the noise of Rindy throwing herself onto her mattress – sounded out into the apartment. Silence blanketed Therese and Carol once more.

‘Are you all right?’ Carol asked quietly, rising from the floor to resume cooking.

Her eyes still wouldn’t meet Therese’s.

‘Yes…’

The harshness of the knife thudding against the chopping board agitated her again. The rhythmic noise that seemed to grow louder was only a reminder of what wasn’t being said. It only accentuated the problem.

_Thud, thud, thud._

Her eyes clamped shut.

‘Carol, I-’

‘Keep prepping these, will you?’ Carol interrupted, pointing to the vegetables on the counter. She untied her apron and rested it over a chair.

Therese gave her a half-hearted smile but said nothing. Moving to one side, she let Carol leave the room and click the door shut behind her. Sighing, she continued to prep the stew, browning the beef before adding the stock and vegetables. Minutes ticked by. She stared at the flames that licked the corners of the metal pan, causing the ingredients to bubble.

Before she knew it, an hour had passed with no sign of Rindy or Carol.

Suddenly exhausted, she plated up their dinners and called out after them. They rushed into the kitchen with smiles on their faces – seemingly having made up – and their animated conversation resumed. It was as if nothing had happened. And, despite fighting against it, Therese couldn’t help but feel as if she’d been left out of something important.

She watched them tell each other about their days in silence, only chiming in when they had asked something from her. And, when they were all done and she had rinsed the dishes, she returned back to her darkroom without a word.

*******************************

She had spent hours alone with her thoughts, only leaving the darkroom to say goodnight to Rindy after Carol had tucked her in. But there was only so much of it she could take. The chemicals under her nose began to make her drowsy and the darkness encouraged her eyelids to droop. Resigning to the pull of sleep, she washed her face, dressed into her nightclothes, and walked quietly into her and Carol’s bedroom. Upon entering, she closed the door behind her carefully so that she wouldn’t disturb Rindy’s sleep.

‘Ah, there you are. I thought you’d vanished.’

Carol was sat upright in bed, wearing loose pearl-like satin pyjamas that brought out the whiter strands of blonde in her hair. She closed up the book she was reading and placed it on her bedside table. Then, she pulled back the duvet and patted the space next to her, inviting Therese in.

She clambered in and relaxed into Carol, allowing the woman to place slow kisses on her forehead, her cheek, her neck. Therese was now on her back, staring up at Carol’s hooded, dark eyes and parted lips that dipped down to bite at her collarbones. Behind her fluttering eyelids, she could only see white and blonde – blinding glimpses of Carol - as if Carol was more of an aura than a person.

But as their lips finally met, and their kisses grew harder and more impatient, Therese found she both could, and couldn’t, relax at all. Her hand that grasped Carol’s hair loosened. Something was pushing and pulling her in all directions.

‘Carol -’

Carol cut her off, kissing her deeper, with her whole body now pressed against her. But something had changed. Carol’s cheeks felt damp.

‘ _Carol_.’ Therese pressed gently.

This time, Carol lifted her head away to reveal her tearstained cheeks and glossy eyes. Therese wiped some of the moisture away with her thumbs.

The two of them settled down onto the mattress, facing one another, as Therese continued to cradle Carol’s face.

‘I’m sorry, darling.’

‘Don’t ever be sorry. Please’

‘You’re young. I feel like I take so much from you.’ Carol whispered as new tears formed in her grey eyes.

Therese’s expression hardened slightly as her eyebrows knitted together. She didn’t like to be reminded of their age difference, or to be made to feel like a child. Carol knew this, but it was a habit that seemed to die hard. There were good intentions behind it, of course; Carol wanted to protect her and to ensure she was as independent and worldly as she could possible be. But, when the issue arose, Therese always felt walled off.

‘I’m not a child.’ She sighed, retracting one of her hands so that she could rub her temple. ‘You’ve given me so much-’

‘But I can’t give you children.’

‘I don’t want children.’

The words rolled off her tongue effortlessly. She’d never spoken words like it before. It felt final – a resignation of sorts. The feeling of loss consumed her once more. And she questioned why – and how – they had never spoken about the subject before.

Was it fear that stopped them from discussing the biological impossibility? Sadness? Anger? Therese didn’t know. And she couldn’t help but wonder whether Carol had been holding onto the subject for a while.

Carol stayed still. She looked taken aback by her words, but dubious.

‘Don’t you?’

The question was barely audible, disappearing into the bedroom before it had even left Carol’s mouth.

There was a beat of silence.

‘I…’ Therese’s voice broke. Her chest seemed to constrict inwards, pressing down against her lungs. ‘I don’t know.’

Carol shut her eyes and sighed. Another tear trickled down her cheek.

‘I see.’

‘What I mean to say is… I haven’t thought about it.’ Therese continued, her fingers now tracing patterns up and down Carol’s arm absentmindedly. ‘I was told to want it. I was told how to be a woman, a wife, a mother. I suppose I was always dismissive of motherhood and marriage out of stubbornness. But now that I can’t have any of it – not because of you, but because of my nature – it makes me wish I at least had the option. It’s not you who’s taken anything from me. It’s everyone else.’

As she spoke, the fog in her head began to clear, as if her words were hands feeling out the way. The future was uncertain, and that she couldn’t change. But, more than that, Therese understood that having children wasn’t something that should be taken lightly. It was impossible to know whether the she might want children in five years’ time, never mind if she’d want them in the distant future.

The only thing she knew with certainty was that she loved Carol. Through the fog, she could see only her face and nothing else. And, of course, there was Rindy, too.  

Biologically, it was impossible for her to have children with Carol. Legally, it was impossible, too. But having Rindy was wonderful enough, Therese thought - having the three of them together, now, in the present, was wonderful.

Now seemingly calmer, Carol closed the gap between them and kissed Therese once more. It was salty and sad, tasting of Carol’s tears, but there was a glimmer of acceptance within it; a promise to navigate all the world threw at them together.  

‘I was worried that, perhaps, you might one day realise that I can’t give you everything and resent me for it.’ Carol murmured.

‘I could never resent you.’ Therese said, emphasising the words clearly. ‘Please believe me. I love you.’

Carol nodded silently.

‘And… We already have a child, don’t we?’ Therese continued. ‘I love Rindy like she’s my own.’

‘Yes.’ Carol smiled, now, and pulled Therese’s body closer. ‘Albeit a child who would still very much like a baby sister. God help us.’

Therese laughed.

‘ _Still_? But she seemed happier earlier.’

‘Mhmm.’ Carol groaned, throwing her head back against her pillow. ‘I cheered her up by promising her ice cream on the weekend.’

‘That won’t keep her quiet for long.’

‘I know.’

They stared up at the ceiling and pondered the situation together, yet in complete silence.

‘Well… We could always – I don’t know – get her a dog?’

Carol’s eyes suddenly widened. Her head whipped around to face Therese before stilling in shock. Her full, pink lips opened to say something, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat.

‘A _dog_?’ She choked out incredulously.

Therese felt as though she was suddenly and unintentionally walking a fine, dangerous line.

‘It was just a suggestion - _ouch_.’ Therese placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her loud burst of laughter. Carol had thrown one of the bed’s decorative pillows at her. In retaliation, she straddled Carol’s lap and pinned her arms to her sides.

‘Darling, if you so much as mention the possibility of a dog to our daughter, I’ll-’

Therese cut her off with a smiling kiss, shifting her body down so that they were now flush. The encompassing white and blonde light that swallowed her senses whole returned. Like a tide, Carol pulled her out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sentiments are very much the same as Therese's, in that my sexuality made me ponder things that I always assumed I didn't have to ponder. For instance, there once was a time where I thought I might want to carry a child - I know that I don't want that, now, but before it almost felt like I didn't have that choice.
> 
> I suppose that's the difference between C&T and my gen - we do have so much more of a choice. And although having children is a pain in the ass when you're a lesbian, it's still viable! Which is awesome. 
> 
> Also, please - I'm begging you - distract me from having to think/read about Brexit. I'm tired of it, I'm embarrassed by it, I wish my remain vote could have counted as 10 million remain votes. 😩 So, how have you all been?


	9. By the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's been a while! Here's a short titbit of a chapter. It's nothing much, but I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Inspired by my home and a beach I used to frequent very often as a child, teenager and - even now (when I visit) - as an adult.

The wind screeched in their ears and blustered around their frames, rustling through their hair and catching their clothes. Even their thick, woollen coats couldn’t keep out the sheer force of mother nature. It surrounded them, pushing and pulling their bodies one way and then another, rocking them on the top of the cliff-side. The two of them held their hats to their heads as they attempted to cement themselves to the unruly heathland.  

It was the sort of wind that one could only experience by the coast.

_‘Are you sure we shouldn’t bring warmer clothing?’ Therese had asked in their apartment a week prior, chewing her lower lip in uncertainty. ‘I’m worried we’ll get cold.’_

_Carol had thrown her head back and laughed heartily. ‘Darling, Britain’s famous for it’s mild weather, isn’t it? We’ll be all right with just a couple of layers.’_

_‘I suppose.’_

_‘Trust me.’_

_She had nodded and smiled, because Carol had always known more about these things than she did. Therese had never been to the United Kingdom - or Europe for that matter – and Carol had. So, she took her lover’s word for it, shut her suitcase and zipped it up, and linked arms with Carol as they walked towards the taxi that would take them to the airport._

Therese looked pointedly at Carol, as though somehow the temperamental weather was her doing.

‘Oh, don’t look at me like that. How was I to know it’d be this damned cold in April?’

Carol shot her a defensive glance, that Therese held steadily, but eventually gave in. Sighing, she stretched an arm out and invited Therese to wrap an arm underneath her coat and around her waist. Therese obliged, moving in closer to share the warmth.

Another gust blew into Therese’s face, provoking tears to form in her eyes. Bending her head down, she nestled into Carol’s neck to hide from the cutting wind.

‘Let’s go down!’ She said loudly. ‘It’s too cold.’

Carol, seemingly unbothered by the weather, looked at her to smile and nod. Together, they turned to carefully walk hand-in-hand down the steep, rocky path that lead to the cove.

Soon, they were taking off their shoes to walk across a smooth sheet of yellow sand and smooth pebbles. Towering over them were blackened Jurassic cliffs that looked as though they had erupted from the ground hundreds of thousands of years ago. The jagged, imperfect edges of the rock, and the smallness of the cove, made the area seem as though it was completely untouched by mankind. Even on the beach, they were alone, without a soul in sight.

In that moment, it was their discovery, their small corner of peace in an otherwise overwhelming world.

After finding a well sheltered part of the beach, Carol pulled out a blanket from her shoulder bag and lay it across the sand. The two of them lay down together, perching on their elbows, as they watched the sea change colours: green, to blue, to a coppery sort of brown. And then, of course, there were the whites of the waves as they rose and curled and crashed onto the shore repeatedly.

The sea was aggressive, untameable, violent, and yet Therese thought there was so much beauty in it. It made her feel alive. It mimicked the changing nature of humanity, of emotion, of life itself. And, although it intimidated her, it called to her, too.

‘Fancy a swim?’ Carol asked, smirking.

‘You know I can’t swim.’

‘What about dipping your feet in?’

Therese laughed and prodded one of Carol’s legs gently with her foot. ‘You can test the water out first and then maybe I’ll paddle.’

Carol squinted her eyes in thought for a moment and, then, in a blur of movement, pulled Therese by the hand and off the picnic blanket. Before Therese had time to protest, they were quickly making their way down to the animated tide, laughing as though they were young, careless children.

‘Carol!’ Therese called out, struggling to see behind the wild movements of her rippling hair.

‘Just a quick paddle. Where’s your spirit, darling?’

Therese, now breathless, bent over in laughter, mere feet away from the lapping water. How absurd it was that she was here, in a foreign country, by a sea she had never seen before, about to jump in with the woman she loved. It was oddly perfect. A small pocket of time that she’d memorise forever.

‘It looks freezing, Carol.’

‘It’ll be all right. We’ll go in together on the count of three, hm?’ Carol said, pulling up her slacks so that they sat well above her knees.

Therese bunched up her skirt in one clasped hand and nodded, her expression determined yet nervous. ‘Okay.’

‘Ready? Three… Two… _One_.’

Therese jumped in and yelped immediately.

The water was indeed cold in a sharp, stabbing sort of way. It tingled in her feet, numbing her, and then sparked up her body, sending shivers through her bones. She clamped her eyes shut and clenched her jaw to fight against it, focusing instead on her other senses.

Her nose could smell the overwhelming, unique smell of the sea: seaweed, salt and grit. And she could hear the soft ripples and the distant crackling of waves brushing across the sound. The water splashed around her ankles and calves, licking up her skin as if it were trying to pull her in further or consume her. But she couldn’t see, or hear, or smell Carol.

Turning her head suddenly, she saw Carol stood on the shore, still, stifling laughter behind one hand. She hadn’t jumped in with her.

‘I- _Carol_.’

She was met with more laughter, though Carol turned to face the cliff-side so Therese's couldn’t see the extent of it.

‘Don’t laugh.’ Therese called out sternly, though she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

But Carol didn’t stop.

So, pulling her skirt up further, she dragged her feet through the water, quickly, towards Carol. When she was within the right distance, she drew one leg back and swooped it through the tide, sending a scattering, transparent line of sea water over Carol’s clothes, face, and hair.

Carol’s smirk faded and her body stilled. Her expression registered confusion, first, and then what looked like annoyance. She glanced down at her body and then up again.

‘Therese,’ she growled deeply, seriously. ‘These are fresh clothes.’

‘I-’

‘You’ve ruined my clothes.’

Taking a step forward, Therese reached out an apologetic hand to clasp Carol’s arm. ‘Carol, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have…’

And then she felt the shock of coldness again.

Her lover had retaliated, using Therese’s moment of weakness to kick water back at her. She could feel it spreading, soaking into the fabric of her skirt and top, making her clothing stick to her skin.

Carol’s feigned annoyance had been a ruse, she realised, and a good one at that.

They held a prolonged, silent stare. And then, suddenly, they were both in the water, wrestling one another’s arms against their sides, struggling for breath in between their fits of laughter. The turbulent waves became heavier, crashing higher and higher up their legs as they struggled in their embrace. Therese’s skirt was now completely sodden at the hem and Carol’s trousers weren’t much better.

‘You’re insufferable, Carol. Do you know that?’ Therese said breathlessly, her cheeks burning red. ‘But I love you.’

Carol paused for a moment, her grey eyes burning into Therese’s green ones. Then, she bent down to kiss her. Both of her hands slid up Therese’s back slowly and into her hair, grabbing it softly. And the rising tide – the Cornish waves that were restless and relentless – went unnoticed as they melted into one another.

*******************

After watching the tide draw further and further into the top of the beach, near the tall grass of the heathland, they had decided to take shelter. But other than a few cow farms dotted around the area, there weren’t many signs of civilisation to be found. So, admitting defeat, they returned to the sea, only this time to visit the cove’s medieval church.

They sat next to each other in a wooden pew, startled by how the old church was able to shut out the outside noise, despite being so close to the shore.

Around them, they could see painted screens, depicting saints and forgotten religious figures, that were centuries old. At the front of the church, they spotted two fonts below stained-glass windows, one of which had been carved with a tree of life design. And down the aisle, curving sinisterly over them, were tall pillars of granite.

‘Doesn’t look like anybody else is here.’ Carol murmured. Her voice was quiet, but it still seemed to bounce and echo off the cold, grey stone.

‘No.’

They sat in silence, awkwardly shifting on the uncomfortable bench, and attempted to pat their clothing dry with a towel.

But after ten minutes of waiting in the ageing, cold church, Therese felt as though the history and significance of the place was weighing down on her. It was a similar feeling to being watched. And she wondered if it was guilt she was experiencing, or awkwardness, or perhaps the presence of some kind of divine being.

‘I haven’t been inside a church since I was a schoolchild. It feels strange.’

Carol smiled gently at her and placed a hand on her knee, squeezing slightly.

‘It’s as if I’m a different person. I’ve been separated from the way I was raised.’ Therese continued. ‘Do you feel unsettled being here?’

‘Why should I?’ Carol asked, confused.

Therese looked down at Carol’s hand on her knee and back up again.

‘Ah.’

‘Yes. _Ah_.’ Therese repeated.

There was a beat of silence.  

‘Well. You never know, perhaps medieval European saints were more accepting of people like us. Maybe it wasn’t considered a sin in the sixteenth century.’ Carol said, pointing to the figures painted on the side of the pew benches. ‘But you know I’ve never much cared for what people think of me.’

‘I know.’ Therese smiled softly and then leaned into Carol’s shoulder. ‘Me neither; not anymore. Not in here, not outside, not in New York.’

She placed a quick kiss on Carol’s red lips and giggled as she saw the taken aback look in Carol’s eyes.

But her look of shock soon turned into a grin, followed by a wink.

‘Well, the almighty God hasn’t smitten us. Looks like we’ll live to see another day.’ Carol joked. ‘Though I’d rather see that day elsewhere, wouldn’t you? This place is too eerie for my liking.’

She raised from the bench, offering a hand to Therese.

‘All right. So long as you don’t convince me to go back in the sea again.’

Carol gasped.

‘Would I ever do that to you, darling?’ She said, feigning shock. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of warming up by the cottage fire. Besides, these slacks are still dripping wet, I need to get out of them before I catch a cold.’

Therese linked their arms together and nudged Carol gently. ‘Well, I won’t protest to that.’

‘ _Therese Belivet_.’ She whispered huskily, a devilish look swimming behind the sheen of her eyes as they both walked out the large wooden door of the church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the brief hiatus, my life has been very hectic and upsetting these past few weeks. I felt bad for leaving you all hanging, so I wrote this chapter quickly after visiting home for my friend's funeral. 
> 
> I suppose there's no deeper meaning or significance like that, but I enjoyed writing about a place that holds a special place in my heart. And I've been thinking a lot about home lately. 
> 
> ANYWAY. How are you all? What have you been up to? Let me know! :) 
> 
> I must also write a short disclaimer/P.S. here: I'm going abroad on Monday for two weeks (for a much-needed holiday), so you shan't be hearing from me. Partly why I wanted to get *something* posted.


	10. A Friend's Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you're all still with me!
> 
> It's midnight UK time so this might read incoherently, but I'm desperate to post something after my absence.

 

‘How’s the jetlag?’ Dannie asked softly as he handed her a hot mug of black coffee.

She took it from his hands and shuddered as the heat suddenly struck into her hand, radiating throughout her body. Her head lay back against the cushioned back of the sofa as she took a sip, smiling at Dannie as she did so. It was the first time she felt truly grounded since coming off the plane. Even the time spent at their Madison Avenue apartment had been a blur of cleaning, unpacking and chasing Hargess to see Rindy on the phone. 

‘I feel like my brain is fried, but at least I’ve got some time to rest up.’

‘You had a nice time though, right?’

Therese’s drooping eyes came back to life. ‘Yes, it was incredible. London was so charming. Carol even paid for a few nights in a hotel in Hyde Park, near Kensington palace – I’d never stayed anywhere so grand before. And the _countryside_ in the south of England – I felt as though I could actually breathe, you know? Oh, and Paris! Dannie, if you’ve never been before, you must! The cafes and cobbled streets, the Notre Dame… It’s so special. I’ve got a ton of photographs that I’ll develop next week at work. I mean, If Martin will allow it, of course. I’d happily show them t- What?’

She paused, though her mouth remained agape as though she was ready to continue her stream of thought.

Dannie had a mouthful of beer and was trying to suppress a laugh. He turned away from her, wiped his mouth, and swallowed. A choking noise rasped from his throat as he finally let out a chuckle.

‘It’s nothing. You’re just going a mile a minute. I’ve never seen you talk so much.’ He said, smirking as he took a seat in the ageing, brown leather armchair opposite. ‘I’m glad you had a wonderful time.’

‘Well, I’m sure Carol will have more to say about it this evening.’ Therese said. She looked down into her lap at her new maroon dress. Carol had bought it for her in London at a specialist dressmaker in London. She’d always think of their time away whenever she looked at it: the way Carol’s eyes surveyed her approvingly as she wore it for the first time.

‘What time did you want us to come over?’ Therese continued.

Dannie didn’t answer right away.

Instead, his eyes bore into hers for a moment, communicating something she didn’t quite understand. A question, perhaps, or something deeper. Something with roots attached. He placed his beer on a small side table and leant forward, his hands clasping together. Though his expression remained kind, as it always did, there was an air of seriousness surrounding him.

‘Six o’clock would be perfect… But, listen. I know you’re coming back here later for the party… But I wanted to tell you first. Just you. Though I doubt it’ll come as a shock.’

Therese’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. Had she missed something?

‘Tell me what?’ She asked quietly. ‘Is everything all right?’

There was a short pause. The air between them stilled, though she could practically feel every single nerve bouncing around inside of Dannie. He was eager to tell her something.

‘Louise and I are engaged. I proposed while you were away and, well, she said yes. Obviously.’ He said, boastingly. A grin spread across his face, crinkling his laugh lines and reddening his cheeks. His eyes, though still receptive, glazed over as if he were in his own world.

She flinched a little, taken aback by the announcement, and then let out a small, surprised laugh.

‘Dannie, congratulations! I- ’ Therese stuttered. A lump had unexpectedly blocked her throat. She shook her head to compose herself. ‘I know you’ll be very happy together. You make a wonderful couple.’

But Dannie hadn’t seemed to notice her falter. Still residing in his own daydream, he simply nodded, barely grasping the words of encouragement she had given him. A smile played at her lips. It was brilliant, she thought, that he was a good man and marrying for the right reasons. She had seen too many marriages that were unequal, or failing, or based on convenience alone.

Richard flitted across her mind. He had wanted to marry her years ago. He had even suggested – multiple times – that they get married quickly, on a whim. But he hadn’t truly loved her or respected her. In fact, Richard had barely even known her. The woman he had wanted to marry was an ideology – a façade he had conjured in his own mind to satisfy his need to, what? Feel good about himself? She suppressed the urge to laugh.

Yes, Dannie would make a good husband, she decided. He was a different sort of man. A better man.

‘Thank you, Therese. I’m afraid Phil’s taken the best man position, but I suppose you could be a bridesmaid or something?’ He joked.

‘Thanks.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not taking your word for that until I hear from Louise.’

He moved off the armchair to sit next to her and pulled her into a one-armed embrace.

‘Can I tell Carol?’ She asked instinctively.

Dannie threw his head back to laugh.

‘She's still always the first thing on your mind, hm? Of course you can.’

‘Oh, shut up. You know she’ll be annoyed at me if I don’t.’

Dannie pulled her closer, kissed her hair and then patted his knee with one loud clap of his hand. ‘Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, look at this dump.’ His arms gestured to the surrounding space. There were newspaper cuttings strewn across the tables, cushions misplaced, and empty beer bottles gathered beside a sofa leg on the carpet. ‘I better get tidying before this party.’

***************************

‘Therese, is that you?’ Carol called out loudly from the living room.

Therese pushed the front door shut and shook her head, smiling. ‘Who else would it be?’

The click of Carol’s heels grew closer and closer as she walked down the hallway. She was already dressed for the party, though her hair was held up by curlers. In her hands, she held two handbags in her hands – one black and one red – and her eyes flitted between them like a tennis ball, undecided.

‘Red or black?’ She asked after leaning in to kiss Therese. Though she didn’t wait for a response. ‘Sod it, I’ll go with black. How was Dannie?’

Therese laughed gently at Carol’s typical unpredictability.

‘He’s good. Great, actually.’ She followed Carol into the living room and watched as she sat down and looked quizzically at her shoes. ‘He proposed to Louise.’

The words seemed to fly over Carol’s head for a few seconds. She was still running through her own thoughts, separate from Therese’s. But, then, like a light switch flicking on, her eyes widened, and she looked up towards Therese. ‘ _Proposed_?’

‘Mhmm.’

A grin spread slowly across her face and Therese was reminded of the coffee she had held earlier. It was the same warm feeling of home. ‘Oh, they must be so pleased. What time is it? Do we have time to fetch a gift before the party? I’m sure the florists down the street will still be open.’

‘That’s a good idea.’ Therese hummed distractedly; her eyes focused solely on Carol’s face. It was illuminated not only by her own happiness, but the soft orange light of the sun setting. The light accentuated her distinctive facial features; her jawline, her brow, her cheeks.

Then she thought of how easy it would be to ask her to marry her, properly this time, if they were legally able to. And wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a party and to announce it to their friends, family and the world?

Therese remembered the look in Dannie’s eyes and the lilt in his voice the first time he had spoken about Louise. It had mirrored her own. She had felt that way about Carol for years now. And although they didn’t need the officiality of it all – the ceremony, the vows – she couldn’t help but hope that they’d live to somehow see it through. A blurry vision wisped across her mind; Carol and herself signing their marriage certificates. Tears pricked behind her eyes.

She would try not to want it, she thought. She wouldn’t go out of her way to expect it from the world. What they had would always be enough for them.

‘Is everything all right, darling?’ Carol question, her eyes now steeled.

‘Yes… Yes. I suppose I don’t know what to wear tonight.’

After rising from the sofa with a smile on her face, Carol then led her into their bedroom. ‘You should know me well enough by now to know that I’ve already planned that out.’

On the bed, a grey houndstooth blazer and matching skirt was laid out neatly, alongside a red neck scarf and a bottle of Carol’s perfume. Therese smiled fondly at the sight of it all: the clothes, the bed, the framed photographs of themselves and Rindy that called out for attention in her periphery vision. The perfume had been the very same Carol had used on their trip out West over a year and a half ago.

‘Anyone might think you’re in love with me.’ Therese chided.

‘Don’t be absurd.’ Carol said, matching her playfulness. ‘What would the neighbours say?’

Before she had time to make another remark, Carol’s mouth was on hers. She melted into the embrace.

*****************************

Carol had rushed to Dannie and Louise’s side almost immediately, though she kept her voice hushed so as not to ruin the surprise for everybody else in the room. Therese watched from a distance as she saw Dannie chuckle embarrassedly, blushing at Carol’s praise and well wishes. Beside him, Louise was grinning from ear to ear, her arm clamped around Dannie’s waist as if she was glued to him.

She took a sip from her glass of red wine and watched as the modestly sized flat filled with people – those who she knew well and those who she didn’t know at all. Although she had felt more confident now within herself and her ability to talk to others, Therese kept her distance. There was an awkwardness about the event that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. As she drank to sooth her anxieties, it still niggled away inside of her, rousing her senses.

_Clink, clink, clink._

Metal met glass as Dannie called for a toast. He stepped forward into the middle of the room, Louise still attached to his side, and held his glass up to his eye level. The liquid inside almost spilled over the rim.

‘Ladies and gents.’ He called out before nodding towards Louise. In one swift movement, she raised her left hand above her head and showcased her white gold, diamond engagement ring. It glittered in the light of the room. ‘I’d like to introduce my wife-to-be!’

The room erupted into surprised cheers and applause, laughter and jokes, and suddenly Dannie was drowning in a swarm of people. Therese could no longer see him, nor Carol who had been standing only a couple of feet away. A tipsy man behind Therese chimed in with a loud ‘About time, McElroy!’

To get away from the noise, Therese speedily made her way over to Louise to offer her congratulations.

‘Louise! Congratulations.’ She offered, clinking her wine glass with Louise’s. ‘You look so happy. And rightfully so.’

The woman wrapped her arms around Therese’s shoulders and brought her in for a hug. ‘Thank you. The support from both of you means the world to us.’

‘Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you out, okay?’

But before the woman could answer, she was being dragged away by Phil and the McElroy family. Louise shot Therese an apologetic smile, which seemed to say, ‘ _we’ll talk about this another time_ ’. And then Therese was alone again, struggling to find coherence in the noise.

Sighing, she slipped through of the bustling crowd and out the back door. She pressed her back to the cool brick wall and drank the remaining drops of her wine.

The sun had set now, and, in its place, a few stars were poking through the orange smog of the New York sky. Beside them, the moon gleamed in a crescent shape, barely noticeable behind the passing grey clouds. Therese squinted her eyelids to concentrate better and tried to find Orion.

The stars always seemed to bring her back to herself.

‘Are you going blind or something?’ A voice asked from beside her.

She jumped, making her empty glass fumble around in her hands and almost drop to the floor.

Abby turned her head to face her, a cigarette balancing between two of her fingers. Even in the darkness, Therese could see her one-sided smile and a laugh in her eyes.

‘Jesus, you scared the life out of me. I didn’t even think you were coming.’

Wordlessly, Abby reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a spare cigarette. Therese put it in between her lips and allowed Abby to light it.

‘I wasn’t planning on it. But Alex is away with her parents for the weekend and, well… I’m fond of Dannie. I wanted to at least show my face.’ Abby said, taking a long drag from her cigarette. ‘…  Is that Carol’s perfume?’

Therese’s cheeks flushed red. She had forgotten all about it.

‘I. Um. Yes’ She stuttered before changing the subject. ‘Why are you outside?’

‘Crowds aren’t my thing. Why are _you_ outside?’

Therese looked up at the stars again, silently, and frowned. She should have been inside with the rest of them celebrating.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for Dannie and Louise. Of course she was. They were her friends – Dannie was her best friend – and they deserved their happiness. But it was suddenly all too apparent how simple it was for them.

They’d grow old together, conceive together, share their life and their legal rights as married partners. And, much like everybody inside the building, their bond would be celebrated by the world without falter.

‘I don’t know.’ She muttered.

Abby hummed.

‘Well, I know.’

Therese bent her knees and lowered her back against the wall. ‘You _know_?’

‘Yes, I _know_. I know what you’re feeling.’ Abby said assuredly.

Shame rose within her, and it burnt her skin despite the cool breeze. It was wrong to feel what she was feeling. She knew that. That’s why she couldn’t be inside with everyone else – they would see right through her. But they were different from her and Abby. Even Carol, though she was an exception, had experienced heterosexual marriage once upon a time.

The people cheering Dannie and Louise on were all living an easier, conventional life. They didn’t have to fight to love. They didn’t worry about their futures, their security, their safety.

‘Dannie kissed me once. A week or so after we first met.’ Therese blurted out into the night, her mouth racing to keep up with her mind. ‘Not even Carol knows about that. Nothing came of it, but it made me realise that I was unable to feel anything for men. Not that I wish I could, but…’

‘But you can’t have what everyone else has.’ Abby interrupted, stumping her dead cigarette out with the heel of her shoe.

‘Exactly.’

‘The world is a bitch.’

‘I just… I just wish that it could be different. Easier. I love Carol. I’ll always love her, but I can’t show it. I can’t marry her legally.’ Therese said quietly. The same lump that had risen in her throat that afternoon had returned. It was a difficult realisation to swallow.

‘Hmph. If I could make it happen – marriage, I mean - I would. Not just for you, but for everyone.’

Therese rose up and leant her shoulder against the brick wall. Her words were kind but also telling. It wasn’t often that Abby spilt her feelings to Therese.

‘Are you saying that you’d want to marry Alex? If you could?’ She asked, smirking.

The woman thumped her head back into the wall and rolled her eyes, realising her mistake in oversharing. ‘All right, yes. But don’t tell Carol. I’d never hear the end of it.’

Therese shot her a genuine, knowing smile and then turned away again. She could envision the two of them sharing a home in the suburbs, sitting on a porch and drinking martinis together. Would the four of them still be friends then, she wondered. It was odd to imagine a world without Abby in it now. 

‘Pass me your glass.’ Abby instructed, holding out her hand. ‘I stole a bottle of sparkling wine from Dannie boy’s ice box and I’d hate for it to go to waste.’

Before Therese could protest, she was interrupted by Abby’s yelp as the cork flew out of the bottle and into the night. She passed over her glass and watched as her friend generously topped it up to just below the rim. Abby handed it back to her before clinking their glasses together.

‘To us – the perpetual spinsters.’ She cheered, placing her arm around Therese’s shoulders and squeezing gently.

The two of them drank at length between their spluttered laughter. And Therese suddenly felt grateful that she had Abby’s company and friendship in her life. They shared a similarity that hadn’t been immediate from the start of their relationship, but it wound its way through the two of them now, blossoming like a tree. It wasn’t just their shared sexuality, but rather their ‘outcast’ nature. Neither of them would ever be what the world expected of them and neither of them felt as though they really fit in. It brought comfort that she hadn’t had with any other friendship and she relied upon it to keep her sane.

‘Though, Therese,’ Abby continued, cutting through Therese’s thoughts. She paused as she thought carefully about her next words. ‘You mustn’t resent Dannie for being happy. Or Louise. Be happy for their happiness, as they are for yours. That’s what friends do. All right?’

Therese swallowed the rest of her sparkling wine and then lowered her head, nodding slightly.

‘Yes… You’re right.’ Therese mumbled. ‘We should go back inside.’

‘ _We_?’

‘Yes. We.’ Therese stated, placing a hand behind Abby’s back and guiding her through the back door and into the kitchenette.

The quietness of the New York night faded out of existence, replaced instead by a crescendo of noise: laughter, music and idle chatter. The two of them entered the living room and searched for their friends amongst the crowds. Therese looked for the most saturated area and, surely enough, spotted Dannie chatting to a small group of his friends. Leaving Abby behind, she made a beeline for him. In her tipsy state, she wasted no time in throwing her arms around his neck. He jolted back in surprise.

‘It’s not often you hug me, Therese.’ He laughed.

‘I know. I’m just happy for you.'

                                                                  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh. I can't believe it's been over a month since my last chapter. It's not that I haven't wanted to write, I've just barely had the motivation, you know? After my (amazing) holiday, the year kinda caught up with me and I've been out of sorts. A lot of bad things have happened in a short space of time and I'm struggling to process/get over it. I'll get there in time. 
> 
> That said, I'm so sorry for how long this has taken me. I miss the living daylights out of you all and I miss all of your updates. How have you all been? What's new with you? Let me know!
> 
> Love to you all, and sending best wishes and hugs and everything nice,  
> Claire

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, kudos, or whatever, to let me know what you think.
> 
> Find me @lesbin on Tumblr. 
> 
> Claire


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